31st Bienal de São Paulo (2014) - Guide

31st Bienal

How to recognise things that don’t exist

31st Bienal

How to fight for things that don’t exist

31st Bienal

How to read about things that don’t exist

31st Bienal

How to use things that don’t exist

31st Bienal

How to imagine things that don’t exist

Bienal and ItaĂş present

31st Bienal de SĂŁo Paulo

• At first sight, How to (…) things that don’t exist might seem like an abstract question. But perhaps we should think of the title of the 31st Bienal de São Paulo as a contemporary dilemma: how do we live in a world that is in a permanent state of transformation, in which the old forms – of work, of behaviour, of art – no longer fit and the new forms have yet to be clearly outlined?

By choosing this curatorial project, the Bienal makes room for a fresh view of its building and its history, with a proposal that leaves the modernist heritage on the sidelines in favour of new approaches and considerations. The guide you now hold in your hands is another piece of evidence of the vigorous work realised by the curators and the foundation’s permanent staff.

Working in one of the biggest cities in the world, we are responsible for an event that attracts more than 500,000 people and is increasingly more committed to the cultural and social circles that surround us. For the past five years, the Education Department has been developing an unparalleled project in teachers’ training – which, by the end of 2014, will have reached 25,000 educators – and with the participation of new sectors of the public, involving communities and partners all over Brazil. At the same time, the Bienal’s touring programme has brought recent editions of the exhibition to different Brazilian cities, drawing larger and larger crowds.

This year, it has the potential to double the number of spectators, so that the 31st Bienal be seen by a total of one million people.

Beyond the spectrum of instruction and the spread of culture, we also operate with increasing focus in the area of research. Since 2013, a series of resources has been applied to revitalising the Bienal Archive, consolidating its place as a centre of reference and memory in modern and contemporary art. This process has already begun to bear fruit, which should become more visible in the coming years.

Thus, transcending the exhibitions that it stages, the Bienal Foundation is today an institution dedicated to the production of content, the professional training of its personnel and the implementation of a consistent management model. Still, its activities would not be possible without the crucial support provided by the Ministry of Culture, the State Secretary of Culture, the Municipal Secretary of Culture, its partner in the event, Itaú, its sponsors and a valuable cultural partnership with SESC São Paulo. It is this network of support that allows us to strengthen the bonds between art, the avant-garde and education in order to merit and maintain our place of prestige on the national and international scene.

Luis Terepins President of the Bienal de São Paulo Foundation

• Itaú Unibanco believes that access to culture, in addition to bringing

people closer to art, is a fundamental complement to education, developing critical thinking and transforming individuals, society and the country.

This is why we invest in and support one of Brazil’s most important cultural manifestations. We are the official sponsor of the 31st Bienal de São Paulo: an event which transforms with each edition, welcoming more people, new ideas and variations of artistic expression which expand the horizons of those who participate in and visit the exhibition.

With more access to art and broader horizons, knowledge grows and a variety of opportunities emerge to change the world for the better.

After all, people’s worlds change when they have more culture. And the world of culture changes with more people.

Investing in changes that make the world a better place is what it means to be a bank made for you. Investing in culture. #thischangestheworld Itaú. Made for you.

• Art and the senses of the world

In our contemporary context, rife with symbols and interpretations that blend and clash, questions remain about the possibilities of individuals finding their way. Each of us may feel, to a greater or lesser extent, the urgency of attributing meaning, under the penalty of being overwhelmed by images, texts and sounds that construct reality.

Art participates in this symbolic circulation as a protagonist, with its often disturbing presence and commentaries regarding other presences. In this way, the approximation of contemporary visual art production can signify the expansion of its possibilities for reading the things of the world to various audiences.

From the perception of this potential comes the partnership between SESC – the Social Service of Commerce and the Bienal de São Paulo Foundation, born out of the compatibility of their missions for spreading and fomenting contemporary art and which has been manifested in joint actions since 2010. The 31st Bienal consolidates this partnership with the development of educational efforts, such as open meetings and curatorial workshops, as well as the co-production of artworks with selected pieces travelling to SESC locations throughout the state.

This shared effort reaffirms the conviction that the fields of culture and art are geared for educational intervention – a real vector of collaboration and the transformation of individuals and society.

Danilo Santos de Miranda Regional Director of SESC São Paulo

Contents 17 21 23 25 27

How to (…) things that don’t exist Turn Conflict, colectivity, imagination, transformation Process Journey

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“… - OHPERA – MUET - ...” Alejandra Riera with UEINZZ 10.000 års nordisk folkekunst Asger Jorn AfroUFO Tiago Borges and Yonamine Agoramaquia (el caso exacto de la estatua) Asier Mendizabal Aguaespejo granadino / Fuego en Castilla Val del Omar Apelo Clara Ianni and Débora Maria da Silva Archéologie marine El Hadji Sy Bajo presión Lázaro Saavedra Balayer – A Map of Sweeping Imogen Stidworthy Black Series / TrabZONE and other works Nilbar Güreş Breakfast Leigh Orpaz Capital Wilhelm Sasnal Casa de caboclo Arthur Scovino Céu / El Dorado Danica Dakić Cities by the River Anna Boghiguian Counting the Stars Nurit Sharett Dark Clouds of the Future Prabhakar Pachpute Dios es marica Nahum Zenil / Ocaña / Sergio Zevallos / Yeguas del Apocalipsis (Organised by Miguel A. López) Errar de Dios Etcétera… and León Ferrari La Escuela Moderna Archivo F.X. / Pedro G. Romero Espacio para abortar Mujeres Creando The Excluded. In a moment of danger Chto Delat

38 40 42 44 46 48 50 52 54 56 58 60 62 64

68 70 72 74

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78 80 82 84 86 88

90 92 94 96 98 100 102 104 106 108 110 112 114 116 118 120 122 124 126 128 130 132 134

A família do Capitão Gervásio Kasper Akhøj and Tamar Guimarães A fortaleza / Nada é Yuri Firmeza Handira / Bert Flint / Granada Teresa Lanceta Histórias de aprendizagem Voluspa Jarpa Imponderables / Perímetros Johanna Calle In the Land of the Giants and other works Jo Baer The Incidental Insurgents Part 1 & Part 2 Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme Los incontados: un tríptico Mapa Teatro – Laboratorio de artistas Inferno Yael Bartana Invention Mark Lewis It’s Just the Spin of Inner Life Agnieszka Piksa Landversation Otobong Nkanga Letra morta Juan Pérez Agirregoikoa Letters to the Reader (1864, 1877, 1916, 1923) Walid Raad Línea de vida / Museo Travesti del Perú Giuseppe Campuzano Loomshuttles, Warpaths Ines Doujak and John Barker Map Qiu Zhijie Martírio Thiago Martins de Melo Meeting Point and other works Bruno Pacheco Muhacir Gülsün Karamustafa Mujawara Sandi Hilal, Alessandro Petti and Grupo Contrafilé The Name Giver Michael Kessus Gedalyovich Não é sobre sapatos Gabriel Mascaro Não-ideias Marta Neves Nosso Lar, Brasília Jonas Staal O que caminha ao lado Erick Beltrán Of Other Worlds That Are in This One / One Hundred Thousand Solitudes Tony Chakar Ônibus Tarifa Zero Graziela Kunsch Open Phone Booth Nilbar Güreş The Placebo Scroll Michael Kessus Gedalyovich

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A Research Lia Perjovschi Resimli Tarih Gülsün Karamustafa Revista Urbânia 5 Graziela Kunsch and Lilian L’Abbate Kelian The Revolution Must Be a School of Unfettered Thought Jakob Jakobsen and María Berríos RURU ruangrupa Sem título Éder Oliveira Sergio e Simone Virginia de Medeiros El shabono abandonado Juan Downey Small World Yochai Avrahami Spear and other works Edward Krasiński Those of Whom Sheela Gowda Turning a Blind Eye Bik Van der Pol A última aventura Romy Pocztaruk A última palavra é a penúltima – 2 Teatro da Vertigem Untitled Vivian Suter Video Trans Americas Juan Downey Vila Maria Danica Dakić Violencia Juan Carlos Romero Voto! Ana Lira Wall, Work, Workshop. The São Paulo Drawing Dan Perjovschi Wonderland Halil Altındere Ymá Nhandehetama Armando Queiroz with Almires Martins and Marcelo Rodrigues Zona de tensão Hudinilson Jr.

182 185 188 190

Architecture Education Visual identity Programme in time

192 204 220

Image captions Credits Index of participants

136 138 140 142 144 146 148 150 152 154 156 158 160 162 164 166 168 170 172 174 176 178

How to (…) things that don’t exist The title of the 31st Bienal de São Paulo, How to (…) things that don’t exist, is a poetic invocation of art’s capacities, of its ability to reflect and act upon on life, power and belief. The sentence, neither a question nor a proposition, entangles, through art, the mystical and spiritual side of life with political and social ideals – all this in a constantly changing world. It intends to communicate optimism about the possibilities of art today – an optimism that echoes that of the Bienal and the projects within it. The range of possibilities for action and intervention is open – an openness that is the reason for the first of the two verbs in the title to change constantly, anticipating the actions that might make present these things that don’t exist. We started by talking about them, later to move onto living with them.

This was followed by using, struggling against and learning from those same things, in a list that has no end.

The existence of things that don’t exist can be grasped if we recognise that human understanding and action are partial, limited by expectations and beliefs. Some things, then, fall outside the commonly accepted frames of thinking and doing at any given time. When people find themselves in discord with existing explanations of life and their experience of it, the things that don’t exist become most tangible

in their absence. They are often experienced as confrontations with limitations or injustices that we feel we cannot surpass, because we do not posses the means to do so.

Today, these limitations might be found in a number of long-lasting conditions, many of which seem to have become extreme. In an age when exchanges of information are increasing exponentially, there is also a reduction in the diversity of thinking frames. The dominant economic model, with its cold logic of efficiency, often ignores the history and culture of places, in favour of simplistic profitand-loss analyses. The complexity of human desire is left aside, yet the old discourses of opposition to capital also fail to account for fundamental aspects of contemporary life. Established Left and Right perspectives on politics, economics or social structures are not in touch with this life and the way that it is lived, and this inability must open the way to other social and political approaches. Equally, the abuses made in the name of religion are visible, yet the spiritual is a fundamental presence in many people’s lives, finding expression in a wide range of modes and manners.

Political representation – as the recent protest movements in many regions worldwide reflect – is in deep crisis, yet no clear alternative has emerged. But such situation is neither necessary nor permanent…

Turn The encounter between the political, social, religious, economic or ecological crises we are experiencing, the increasingly uneven distribution of power and resources and the feeling that we lack the means to make real change real seem to have led to a stage of turn. ‘Turn’ is a word sometimes used to refer to religious conversion, or to define a point where a certain construction of common sense gives way to a different set of shared values. In this moment of turning we are living, change is occurring without its exact mechanisms, direction and consequences being clear.

Turn – our turn – is not modern, oriented towards the future, progressive. It is, instead, disorderly, sometimes deceitful, definitely inconstant. It appears to be trying to find a way out of established parameters, in order to give space to complexity and flexibility – not shy of conflict and confrontation. This state of turn is our contemporary condition and, therefore, the condition of this 31st Bienal.

Conflict, collectivity, imagination, transformation The crisis of representation also extends to art, which has perhaps been in the past a primary form of representing the world. Many artists in this Bienal are concerned with being present in situations and allowing their impressions to accumulate slowly so that viewers of their final works can feel part of the process of discovery and learning.

We wanted to look into ways of generating conflict, through projects that have at their core an unresolved relationship between groups, between different versions of history or between incompatible ideas; but also to think and act collectively, in order to prove it is a much more effective and enriching way to work than the individual logic often proposed to us. In imagination we see a tool to move beyond our current situations and to transform them.

Art at its best is a disruptive force. It can create situations where the disallowed is recognised and valued through the act of imagining things otherwise. Lastly, transformation can be understood through artworks that can present the potential for change in many ways – taking advantage of transgression, translation, transexuality and other transitional notions or actions that, like the turn, go against the imposition of a single, absolute truth. Indeed it seems that these ‘trans-’ words are ways to touch on things that cannot be fully expressed with written language, but instead rely on other forms of communication.

Process The 31st Bienal understands itself as eminently contemporary, in dialogue with our present times: with the situation today, in the city of São Paulo, where it is located; with Brazil, the country that is the city’s immediate context; South America beyond it; and the world at large. Both premodern and modern history appears within it, but the value of this history is not in itself, rather it appears as a set of relevant fictions, narratives and information out of which new possibilities may emerge for the future. The emphasis on contemporaneity also translates into a desire to do away with formal hierarchies between artists, curators, communities, students and publics.

This is not a Bienal built on art and objects, but on people working with people on projects, on collaborations between individuals and groups, on relationships that should continue and develop throughout and, perhaps, even after the 31st Bienal is over. While a small group of people might be the initiators, the stress of the 31st Bienal is on all those who will be in contact with the project and make use of it, and on what the encounters with the projects and the event as a whole will create. The openness of the process needs to be understood in terms of a process of learning: an educational exchange that is established throughout and on each level and therefore unresolved and exploratory.

Journey Hopefully, everyone who establishes contact with the Bienal will agree to accompany us for a journey, short or long, and explore these possibilities before branching off on their own individual and collective paths and take something new with them. Hopefully, this shared moment can be transformative for all involved.

And for this to occur, the artworks, the words and ideas that emerge in discussions, events and situations that have taken place or will take place throughout the duration of the exhibition, all these need to be confronted, appropriated, used and misused by those who come across them. Through all these encounters within and around this 31st Bienal, through what are fundamentally artistic acts of will, those things that don’t exist might be conjured into existence, and this way contribute to a different view of the world. Probably this is, after all, the fundamental capacity of art itself.

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“… - OHPERA – MUET - ...” 2014 Alejandra Riera with Ueinzz [on the date of 3 September 2014]

– Abandoned cinema.

– Partial view. The removal of the Christopher Columbus statue, Parque Colón, Buenos Aires, February 2014.

— Visitor: Look, in the distance, the waves of ........., a flock, it’s ‘...........’.

— Guide: It’s impossible! They........ don’t, they no longer exist, in these parts.

— Visitor: And yet, look closely, over there, on the hills! It stinks!

And if everything could be said and criticised, nothing would happen any more… Take off your glasses if you can’t see with them! Perhaps you will see through something else!

— Guide: Ah – the non-dupes wander again! Stop! Without glasses I can’t read, nor can I see clearly...

— Visitor: And yet you can feel the weight of things around you.

Sense them. The finiteness and the relation among the things close by. You don’t like that I’m digressing, but you, you’re taking us for a ride to nowhere! You want the structure, the measures! You want to be reassured that what you see, what’s there, is yours because you say it is!

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And what about ‘free association’!

The expression that allows everything that comes to mind to flow out and doesn’t resist the slightest criticism … to let out ... this ‘.........’; which cannot be said without?

Why not let the birds come, even if they’ll hit the window with their beaks? If the window........., a puff of wind........, airy ........ AND........

— Guide: You’re pushing me TOO FAR! I give up!

— Visitor/Guide (together): Well then, let’s see! (laughter) – UEINZZ/AR

Meetings in front of the CECCO (Centro de Convivência e Cooperativa), an abandoned warehouse that temporarily housed the Cinemateca Brasileira – including a film club – after a major fire in 1957. Gate 5, Ibirapuera Park. First meeting on 3 September and subsequently every other Wednesday.

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10.000 års nordisk folkekunst 1961-1965 Asger Jorn Photographs by Gérard Franceschi

Recuperating what we, as a culture, have lost or forgotten, and proposing it as a way to construct our future. This is perhaps how we might understand Asger Jorn’s 10.000 års nordisk folkekunst [10,000 Years of Nordic Folk Art] – a project he undertook between 1961 to 1965, together with photographer Gérard Franceschi – in pursuit of the visual language of pre-Christian northern Europe and its remains in Romanic and Gothic art and architecture.

The project resulted in over 20,000 photographs of stone, wood and iron objects, as well as architectural details that reveal a strong belief in language – visual language – as a source of poetry, as a tool to connect the shapes and movements of nature and the world with those of art and society, and as a strategy to offer new images and structures for understanding and constructing life and what is beyond it.

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The collection of photographs, many of them still in negative form or unpublished, offer an image of a world that is not fragmented, not divided into areas of specialisation; a world in which a belief in the equality between people and things rules, and where the ability of things to transform is celebrated.

In this collection of images, art is not to be found in the photographs themselves, but in what they articulate: a transformation that cannot be felt or understood through the individual pictures or the items pictured in them, but in the associations established between one and another.

Together, they speak about a universe in constant change, in which everything is of equal value, and in which the thing that really matters is the search for, the creation of connections. – PL

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AfroUFO 2014 Tiago Borges and Yonamine A UFO is a thing that comes from the future – a future that we might never arrive at, that doesn’t belong to us, but that might show us some place where we could be, some instruments we could make use of, some time when everything will be different. An object we didn’t design but perhaps dreamt of, it makes present a time and a place that is not quite ours, and a set of items, informations and tools we don’t fully recognise. It might work, however, as an image that reflects on the world that we consider ours, and make apparent its size, its limitations and its possibilities. It expands it, and may even save it from (self-)destruction.

Yonamine and Borges’s AfroUFO comes from a black future, a future we don’t know much about. Black, ‘as the colour of my true love’s hair’, are its engines, which leave a track of pollution where it passes by. Black are the people within it, in different shades of it. This blackness is the blackness of a shared colonial history, that of Angola, where Yonamine and Borges come from – a colonial history shared by the place where it has landed, Brazil. It is also the blackness of the electricity shortages that still affect Luanda more than a decade after the end of a 26-year-long civil war.

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But the AfroUFO is also a source of light. Its walls frame a mythical vessel where all that Africa has ever produced is symbolically housed: still and moving images, music, sounds, words‌ The vessel with its contents is a time-bomb that, after landing, might explode and infect our world with what has been suppressed during 500 years of oblivion and exploitation. Once that happens, we might become a new type of creature and find a new way of inhabiting an earth that will no longer be the one we know. – PL

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Agoramaquia (el caso exacto de la estatua) 2014 Asier Mendizabal Arriving on the back of recent sculptural works like Hard Edge (2010), which comprises wood beams all marked through a gesture of subtraction, Asier Mendizabal has made Agoramaquia (el caso exacto de la estatua) [Agoramaquia (The Exact Case of the Statue)] for the 31st Bienal, which critically re-inscribes within a contemporary art context the sculptural praxis of the artist Jorge Oteiza (19082003), whose involvement with Latin America between the 1930s and 1960s was hugely influential yet is largely overlooked today.

Mendizabal’s project consists of a number of sculptures installed in the Bienal pavilion, all of them based on the monument to the Peruvian poet César Vallejo that Oteiza made in Lima in 1960.

These sculptures are ‘finalised’ or ‘incomplete’ versions of a sculptural form and, like the original monument, they are all abstract compositions. By entering into relation with other works and other spaces within the exhibition, these abstract forms take on meanings and functions that might, at first sight, seem distanced 36

from their composition. What Mendizabal does with them is to explore and update a core problem both for the work of Oteiza and for his own: the irresolvable contradiction between the formal language and implied transcendence of abstraction and the conceit of assigning to this language precise meanings, by relating it to specific historical predicaments.

Previous works by Mendizabal – as diverse as the documentary video Goierri Konpeti (2003, with Iñaki Garmendia) or the textual and graphic form A Letter Arrives at its Destination (2010) – share an exploration of the relationship between signs and political situations, between individual and collective expression. In every case, the task for Mendizabal is to give an account of the construction of a narrative that at once brings together and confronts the parties involved with the signs that they construct or manipulate in order to express themselves. – SGN

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Aguaespejo granadino 1953-1955 / Fuego en Castilla 1958-1960 Val del Omar Aguaespejo granadino [Water-mirror of Granada] and Fuego en Castilla [Fire in Castile] are the outcome of technical obsession and grammatical delirium. Reminiscent of autos sacramentales – allegorical religious plays – composed like a musical score, both films contain multiple levels of meaning. They bring together mystical themes and narrations, articulated in pairs: water and fire, the aesthetics of Antonio Ruiz’s flamenco dance and Vicente Escudero’s, the African in Andalucia and the European in Castile, horizontal and vertical, ear and eye, plain and striped, invisible and hidden, and so on.

Val del Omar’s work – or ‘cinegraphy’ as he liked to call it – drew from the prolific generation of the rich context of the Spanish Republic and authors such as Federico García Lorca, Manuel de Falla, Luis Buñuel and Josep Renau, some of his earliest interlocutors. However, it was the dramatic quality of Miguel de Unamuno’s philosophy that had the most decisive influence on the troubled identity of his figurations, halfway between phenomenology and expressionism, with a strong mystical imprint.

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During the Republic Val del Omar was actively involved in the propaganda films of the Pedagogical Missions, and started work on a film about the Holy Week festivities in the region of Murcia, and on the unfinished Vibración de Granada [Granada’s Vibration], where he left evidence of his own cinematographic grammar. But it was during Franco’s dictatorship that he made his most important films, Aguaespejo granadino and Fuego en Castilla: two definitive examples of his work. Acariño galaico [Galician Caress] was to be the third in his Tríptico elemental de España [Elemental Tryptich of Spain], but he never managed to finish it.

Val del Omar was obsessed with control over the technical aspect of his films, and in this sense his mysticism is strongly materialist.

He passionately claimed that whoever controlled the negative, the sound system and the camera lens would be the true owner of the image – the master of the spectacle of our time. To a certain extent, his work is an endeavour to reach such mastery in order to offer a schizoid, liberating and mystical response to the atmosphere of repression and National-Catholic autarchy that he was forced to live with. – PGR 39

Apelo 2014 Clara Ianni and Débora Maria da Silva

Apelo [Plea] emerges from the urgent need to address the institutionalisation of violence in Brazil – something that has developed throughout the country’s history, beginning with the European invasion in the early sixteenth century – and the country’s difficulty to relate to its legacy.

Filmed in Dom Bosco Cemetery in the neighbourhood of Perus, in São Paulo’s outer limits, where urban and country landscapes come together – Apelo connects present-day acts of violence with those of the past through a speech. The cemetery was founded in 1971 by the lastest military government (1964-1985) as a graveyard for victims of the regime, most of whom had disappeared and were later buried in a mass grave. The speaker and co-author of this work is Débora Maria da Silva, whose son was murdered in 2006, a victim of the death squads of the São Paulo military police – one of the most lethal police forces in 40

the world – in response to the attacks orchestrated by the prisioner’s organisation Primeiro Comando da Capital, or PCC. Da Silva currently leads the Mães de Maio movement, comprised of mothers who have lost sons or daughters to police violence and who demand investigation and justice.

As a plea to the living to remember the dead, the speech cries for the right to mourn and for collective memory, confronting the forced amnesia systematically promoted by the state along with other sectors of society. It strives to revive these erased stories, which have disappeared as violently as those who were murdered. Because the absence of memory and the subsequent impossibility of coping with social trauma dooms us to repeating the same acts of violence in the present, threatened by the ghosts of our history. – LP

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Archéologie marine 2014 El Hadji Sy From Gorée Island, right off the coast of Dakar, to Recife in Brazil’s northeastern coast, there are just over 3,170 kilometres: a distance that by today’s standards is arguably small. This, however, does not translate in ease of travel, meaningful cultural proximity or substantial economic exchange – in painful contrast to what happened throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when men and women passed through the island as they crossed the Atlantic, involuntary, as slaves. These were just a few of those who embarked on such journey – a journey that only some of them would complete alive.

This forced travel not only shaped a great part of Brazil’s cultural and political history and that of other Latin American countries; it also resulted in an ocean that is literally filled with bodies – bodies that, if we pay enough attention, we might be able to see and feel. Such an image 42

provides the basis of Archéologie marine [Marine Archaeology], El Hadji Sy’s contribution to the 31st Bienal, which comprises a corridor delimited on the one side by an oceanic path, suspended from the ceiling and made up of these bodies, lying parallel to an enormous baobab that, like a giant octopus with large, tentacle-branches, gathers those bodies around itself and retains the memory of their histories.

Inside the corridor, the bodies of those visiting are both swallowed by the space and partly visible to those approaching – their legs and arms stretched below and over the oceanic path. As in El Sy’s previous work, painting is just part of the story here – an element that builds on materials (sacks, nets, pigments, etc.) that have their own history; and on performative and collaborative setups that give his works an evolving life of their own. In Archéologie marine, the engagement of people with this double vision will allow them to live, in their own bodies, the memory of history – a history that is not intended as an homage or lamentation, but as the starting point for the narration of a possible future in which old relations are reconstructed and others are created anew. – PL 43

Bajo presión 2014 Lázaro Saavedra At the third Bienal de La Habana in 1989, Lázaro Saavedra, along with other Cuban artists from his generation, was included in the section ‘The Tradition of Humour’, in a curatorial move that has been read as an attempt to smother the critical potential of his work through a category, that of humour, which has an uneasy relationship with politics.

Perhaps the title of this exhibition was imposed by the Castro regime, concerned with attacks coming from the outside and possible internal criticism. But the identification of humour as a strategy in Saavedra’s work was not a mistake – it is there as a way of defining a complex, critical position and intervening from within. This position, maintained by Saavedra during a career that has lasted over thirty years, presents a model for how artistic practice is able to respond to context without fleeing, proposing analysis, re-readings and detours.

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For Saavedra, the formation of opinion and construction of social imagination have always been objects of study and problematisation, as seen in a piece from 1987 in which he rips part of a portrait of Karl Marx to show that the author of the ‘Communist Manifesto’ was made of flesh and blood, making his veins and muscles visible, as if the shredded paper were skin. Or in Detector de ideologías [Ideology Detector] (1989‑2010), a small device that detects ideological deviation in works of art: no problems, problematic, counter-revolutionary, subversive. More recently, the artist created Software cubano [Cuban Software] (2012), a game of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ which demonstrates the consequences of the political-ideological choices that rule over contemporary Cuban life, drawing tensions from the relationships between will and reality.

For the 31st Bienal, Saavedra has been invited to realise a wall intervention, Bajo presión [Under Pressure], which draws from some of these previous works, articulating them in a new context and reflecting, through his own history as an artist, on the critical possibilities of art today. – LP/PL 45

Balayer – A Map of Sweeping 2014 Imogen Stidworthy in collaboration with Gisèle Durand-Ruiz and Jacques Lin and with the participation of Christoph Berton, Gilou Toche and Malika Bolainseur

Imogen Stidworthy’s project for the 31st Bienal revolves around a network of temporary homes for autistic children set up by the French writer and pedagogue Fernand Deligny in 1967, around the village of Monoblet in the Cévennes, southern France. Rather than psychiatric care, it was an experience of communal living that was on offer in these farmhouses: therapists were replaced by untrained social workers, and isolation by life out in the open. In this way, Deligny sought to create an environment that responded to the children’s way of being-in-the-world, notably their withdrawal from language. Verbal communication was therefore dispensed with and visual tools such as map-making, photographs and films were used to interpret their gestures and wanderings.

Although the network ceased to operate in the early 1980s, Deligny’s collaborators Jacques Lin and Gisèle Durand continue to live with autistic adults in one of the farmhouses – two of these adults arrived as children in the late 1960s. Building upon her ongoing enquiry into the borders of language, Stidworthy has worked with them to consider the legacy of Deligny’s project and reflect upon what being 46

without language might indicate about the ways in which language constructs our sense of self and thus structures – as well as restricts – our engagement with the world.

Each component of Stidworthy’s installation focusses on a particular cultural practice devised by Deligny in his attempt to take account of the relation with the autistic persons, and of their worldview – namely tracing, ‘camering’ and writing. Attentive to their heightened perception of the material world, Stidworthy has filmed them as they work with Gisèle Durand in a project that she initiates from time to time, involving tracing on paper – an activity that Deligny distinguished from drawing to emphasise its unintentional basis. A similar lack of purpose underpins Deligny’s notion of ‘camering’: an aimless filming that we can recognise in the installation in images made from a ‘detached’ and, to a degree, un-authored camera position. We also see unedited video recordings taken by Lin over years, raw material for a future film captured through an embedded, insider’s eye. Finally, Deligny’s unusual style of writing – here translated live from the French – reveals his attempt to defy language within language. His struggle to counter the rules of the written word thus dovetails with Stidworthy’s own efforts to question the neutrality of language. – HV 47

Black Series 2011-2012 / TrabZONE 2010 and other works 2014 Nilbar Güreş

Appliances and technologies, habits and beliefs, and the ways in which theses elements create and empower forms of behaviour and action provide the common threads running through the work of Nilbar Güreş included in the 31st Bienal. The series of photographs TrabZONE, of which only a part is shown, depicts slightly comic situations that the artist recreates, partly from her childhood memories and partly from her own imagination. The photographs bring to the surface repressive codes still in force in the city of Trabzon, in Turkish Kurdistan (East Anatolia), where some of the artist’s extended family live. At the same time, by exposing these codes, Güreş enables an exercise in questioning expectations, and this is true both for the subjects depicted and for those looking on – for whom the content of the staged situations is, for the most part, more opaque (outlandish or improbable) than legible.

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This work is accompanied by a new set of sculptures, some of them made from the collages in her Black Series. Here, bringing in to play the ‘feminine delicateness’ of embroidery and covering cloth with a kind of dreamlike iconography, Güreş proposes a game of concealment and revelation where the infinite variety and vitality of eroticism is shown as the most useful critical tool to fight the prejudices and crimes perpetrated against sexual freedom. Similarly to TrabZONE and Open Phone Booth

[see pp. 132-133], the result of this gaze on mechanisms of control and suppression is cathartic, resulting in images and configurations that show surprising and, therefore, also liberating ways of seeing, thinking and doing. – SGN 49

Breakfast 2014 Leigh Orpaz Far from the ecstatic images that we might associate with a night out, the depersonalised, black-and-white figures that form the dancing crowd in Leigh Orpaz’s video Breakfast resemble the living dead: eyes glowing, faces flattened and heads nodding zombie-like, their movements disjointed from the unsettling electronic music that fills the exhibition space. Pulsating drones and reverberating bass tones create a sense of suspense, accentuated by the mechanical panning of the camera, resulting in images reminiscent of surveillance footage. Indifferent to the gaze that scrutinises each of their movements, however, the dancers appear unperturbed by their exposure and vulnerability to the technologies of control that surround them – the images were in fact filmed using an infrared camera, a recording device sensitive to temperature rather than light and often used for military purposes. By turning this observational tool towards a familiar scene at the Tel Aviv nightclub after which the video is titled, Orpaz imbues these images with a sense of threat that never quite materialises.

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A similarly eerie atmosphere inflects other of Orpaz’s photographs and videos. Her carefully staged portraits of young women riff on clichés that border on kitsch: a girl watching the snow fall, a teenager standing under a spotlight, a lone dancer embracing a bear.

And yet through subtle alterations of lighting and sound, Orpaz lends these stereotypical depictions of adolescence a sense of unease, reflecting upon the paradoxical exhaustion of images at a time of surfeit visual production.

Other videos undo the symbolism of the road as a site of adventure, often capturing the viewer in a phantasmatic limbo of sorts, much like the cavernous dance floor in Breakfast. The narrative suspended, what remains in Orpaz’s work is a lingering impression of latent hostility, and the daunting uncertainty of not quite knowing whether affects produce images or vice versa. – HV 51

Capital 2004-2014 Wilhelm Sasnal Rendered in a dark palette of greys, blues and greens, Wilhelm Sasnal’s paintings at the 31st Bienal reflect upon the sombre legacy of colonialism.

Copernicus (2004) and Christopher Columbus Tomb (2009) both depict public monuments celebrating the discoveries that shaped the modern world and fuelled the West’s unquenchable thirst for conquest. Although apparently suspended in mid-air, the armillary sphere in Copernicus is hardly ethereal: like the compass barely discernible to its left, it is part of a nineteenth-century bronze sculpture of the astronomer, whose body Sasnal has concealed behind a cloud of white paint.

His painting of Columbus’s burial memorial in Seville’s cathedral similarly subverts the sculpture’s original meaning: detached from its sacred setting and stripped of all ornamentation, this tribute to the man who ‘discovered’ the Americas becomes an elegy for the millions who died during the brutal colonisation that followed.

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That the prejudiced views of the other used to legitimate such a massacre are not yet dead and buried becomes apparent in Untitled (2010) and Untitled (Mine) (2009), each depicting two anonymous, dark-skinned men cutting trees or digging in mines. Inspired by black-and-white illustrations from a 1970s geography book for children, the paintings are scarce in their details, with characters reduced to mere types and any reference to time or place suppressed. If they appear out of time, it is perhaps because they speak to the protracted exploitation of natural resources and human labour that links today’s economic colonialism to the illustrious discoveries of the modern era.

Decidedly iconoclastic, Untitled (2013) and Capitol (2009) can be seen to react against these overtly archetypical representations.

Rather than reigning over the dubious achievements of missionary Catholicism, the mitre-crowned bust of a Polish archbishop is here impaled on a pike and turned into a trophy of war. The gleaming US Capitol building, on the other hand, sits uncomfortably in the eerie landscape over which it presides, the rest of Washington’s neoclassical architecture having been redacted with black paint – perhaps an allusion to the racial inequality that runs deep in today’s wavering imperial centre. – HV 53

Casa de caboclo 2014 Arthur Scovino Simplicity and strength – those are the main qualities of the caboclo, one of the fundamental entities of Afro-Brazilian religions umbanda and candomblé.

Simplicity of articulation, address and means characterises Arthur Scovino’s Casa de caboclo [House of Caboclo]: a constantly changing environment which could be a domestic space as well as a place of ceremony, in which a set of images (drawings, photographs, writings) and tools (books, gases and liquids) are gathered in order to serve as aids for an encounter that will take place within the environment itself.

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Strength of determination and conviction are also essential to the work, and translate into a permanent occupation of that space

by Scovino, the artist-as-caboclo, who, with confidence but also modesty, sets up a situation in which the unexpected can (and will) happen in intimate relation with the visitor.

The caboclo and his house act both as a metaphor for what the space of art can be and do, and as an overcoming of its assumptions and limitations. Together, they make us realise that certain objects, in specific conditions, can affect us, that we can engage in a meaningful exchange with them and the space they inhabit.

This artist’s house also shows us that a communion, a transformation, can actually take place if we let ourselves be touched – an intimate transformation, inside our homes or inside ourselves. But also, the courage of the caboclo can teach us to be warriors, like the spirit of the Indians, fighting for what is fair and good. Seeing the caboclo acting, incorporated, inside the place of ceremony – in the exhibition itself – allows us to choose innocence, as the caboclo does, a wisdom that can help us leave this space and continue their tasks, which are now ours, in life. – PL 55

Céu 2014 / El Dorado 2006-2007 Danica Dakić in collaboration with the children and staff of the Colégio de Santa Inês, with the photographer Egbert Trogemann (Céu) In dialogue with visual anthropology and performance theory, Danica Dakić films and photographs in liminal spaces that define both a state of aesthetic openness and a working method.

For Céu [Heaven], her starting point is the delicate Art Nouveau building of a traditional Italian school in the immigrant neighbourhood of Bom Retiro. The European-like architecture in a modern South American metropolis impressed Dakić in two opposite directions: as a place that carries a memory that can no longer be deciphered; and, as she herself puts it, ‘the continuity of non-destruction’ caused by European wars – in reference to the Balkans, her region of origin. The name of the film is the same of the last square in the hopscotch game.

The narrative alternates between shots of children in old-fashioned uniforms, an elderly nun sat in front of a piano and a little girl running around the building, playing music and hopscotch. The work was 56

realised in an open process so that the children could use the film set as a productive and fictional space to create a journey through parallel worlds and times in which ‘heaven’ is not only a square painted on the floor, nor the place of afterlife concept, but a place of action, between dream and trauma.

In El Dorado, Dakić gathers youngsters from a refugee home to perform in front of the nineteenth-century panoramic wallpaper of the same name at Kassel’s Wallpaper Museum. In the museum’s gallery two historical times are brought together: the colonial past of European countries collecting images of a conquered world, and, as a consequence of the former, the present forced mobility of these young refugees. Dakić invited the film’s protagonists to performatively think about and modify their own particular existence in this unusual environment. Dancing, running and rapping, the bodies of the refugees are no longer solely sites of inscription of absolute power, but on the contrary become bearers and producers of ideas and utopias, and thus of options for action. – BS/GE 57

Cities by the River 2014 Anna Boghiguian Questions about the quality of existence and the inequality of access to resources are among the main concerns of Anna Boghiguian’s work today. Boghiguian is a nomadic observer of the world whose work results in poetic reports of its condition.

For Cities by the River, her new installation for the 31st Bienal, she made small drawings and paintings in her studio in Cairo and on her travels through India, Europe and Brazil. Boghiguian

worked in small cafes in the centre of cities and along the Nile, Ganges and Amazon rivers, recording her impressions of the environment.

Alongside these works she installs beehives and honeycombs to represent the forms of human social relations that she contemplated en route.

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that the worker bees themselves collaborate to serve the queen. The bees reflect on the changes Egypt has gone through in the past years – before, during and after the revolution from monarchy to a dressed up form of democracy that still remains authoritarian. The inequality between the rulers and subjects and the exploitation of a country’s natural treasures are hinted at in the combination of the drawing and the honeycombs.

Over the years, Anna Boghiguian has made drawings, collages, images mixed with text and found objects or sculptures, as a way of recording her travels. Her work can be read partly as visual reports or a visual diary reflecting our confused times. She often interweaves literature and religious texts, mythology and poetry, as well as political analysis of her surroundings. Boghiguian continues to have a conflicted relationship with contemporary megacities, and captures the complex essence of the traffic on the streets, the people in the market or Indian trains, and signs of conflict and collapse. – GE

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Counting the Stars 2014 Nurit Sharett On a journey that led her from Natal to São Paulo, stopping in Campina Grande, Recife and Belo Horizonte along the way, Nurit Sharett assumed a foreign viewpoint in her documentation of Brazil. Still, the search for a different culture wasn’t the motive behind her trip.

An Israeli of Jewish origin, Nurit is interested in identity-themed constructions. In her films, which are documentary in nature, the artist always provides the central thread in the investigation, delicately measuring her proximity or distance to the subjects of her work. In Brazil, she travelled to meet self-proclaimed descendents of the New Christians – or anussim – Jews who were forced to convert to Catholicism during the Portuguese Inquisition of the fifteenth century and who took refuge in Brazil.

Five centuries later, heirs to this hidden memory ask to return to Judaism. ‘Since we are a people of miscegenation, of mixed races, we can be anything inside of this mix’ – something which, for one of the 60

anussim interviewed by Sharett, is a condition of his hybrid identity.

This, to another of the film’s characters, an orthodox rabbi, sounds like the weakening of this identity: ‘It has been over five hundred years since the Inquisition. Five hundred years is a long time: many things have happened, many influences, lots of miscegenation, lots of alienation, lots of assimilation.’

Preserving the specificity of each discourse and not flattening any of them, the artist edits the gathered interviews in Counting the Stars, a three-channel video, as if they were part of a long, single conversation, giving equal weight to the rabbi, the anthropologist, the recent convert, the psychoanalyst, the poet and the young man whose mother always told him he was Jewish and who wishes to be recognised as such. Distanced from the discourses of the institutions that legitimise them as real or denounce them as fictional, each story becomes plausible as history and each interview subject becomes the protagonist of his or her own identity. – BS

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Dark Clouds of the Future 2014 Prabhakar Pachpute The drawing which appears on the poster for the 31st Bienal, made by Prabhakar Pachpute, is a fragile structure shaped like the Tower of Babel or a shell containing a group of human bodies only visible by their bare feet and calves. This image might make us think about the relationships between the visible and invisible, collectivity and conflict, the traumatic and the sublime or the strong and the weak, as it equates the poetic resistance of art to the adversity of the world.

The same motifs recur in Dark Clouds of the Future, the work Pachpute has made for the exhibition. Wall drawings reach out into the space around them, incorporating with a light, nonchalant humour its characteristics and particularities. A rusty nail, damp walls, an electric socket – all evolve within his drawings into intense, unforgettable metaphors. The use in other works of three-dimensional sculptures made of clay and paper pulp and stop-motion animation film, which owe much to artisan set devices, add conceptual and formal dimensions to Pachpute’s drawings.

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The adoption of charcoal as a medium is intentional, and relates to the activities of coal miners. Still, the medium acts not only as a bridge between the physical, the literal and the political; it is also a platform for thought.

Pachpute’s work seems to exist on the border between immobility and movement, which places the concrete nature of the charcoal strokes in confrontation with the intangible and the dreamlike world in which people live ‘faraway and below’.

The coal mines depicted by him hark back to the city of his birth, Chandrapur (Maharashtra, India), also known as the City of Black Gold, and seem to negotiate the personal and political conflicts revealed in the artist’s cautionary warning titles, such as Canary in a Coalmine (2012), The Land Eaters (2013) and Save Us From Tomorrow (2013). With each work, Pachpute searches new ground, new ways out, new ways of collective being, which he discovers, often, within the intellectual life of the miners themselves. – MM 63

Dios es marica 1973-2002 Nahum Zenil / Ocaña / Sergio Zevallos / Yeguas del Apocalipsis (Organised by Miguel A. López) Dios es marica [God is Queer] brings together four artists or collectives whose work is based on the theatricalisation of gender, transvestism and a parody of images associated with religion and with cultural and political history. The work of Sergio Zevallos (Grupo Chaclacayo) in Peru, Nahum Zenil in Mexico, the duo Yeguas del Apocalipsis (Pedro Lemebel and Francisco Casas) in Chile and Ocaña in Catalonia emerged from the end of the 1970s to the end of the 1980s in contexts that were then undergoing intense economic crises, social violence, dictatorships and/ or processes of democratic transition. Their practices employ painting, photography and performance in public spaces to appropriate, subvert and trade codes handed down from the Catholic tradition, responding to historical processes of exclusion and marginalisation of non-normative bodies, desires and sexualities peddled by national, religious and military discourses.

Sergio Zevallos, at the time a member of the Grupo Chaclacayo (19821994), deployed a sarcastic transvestism using waste material and precarious elements in actions performed in marginal spaces that pointed at the structural bases of violence. Zevallos made his images in Lima, 64

against the backdrop of the armed conflict between the Maoist Shining Path and the military forces of the Peruvian state. His photographs recorded a ritual choreography of two androgynous bodies in some of the city’s abandoned spaces, mining Christian iconography, popular culture and porn magazines through mise en scène, acting out episodes of torture, crucifixion and death, as well as pleasure, eroticism and ecstasy.

The Yeguas del Apocalipsis started working together towards the end of Augusto Pinochet’s military dictatorship in Chile. One of their most striking actions is Casa Particular [Private House] (1990), held in a brothel in Calle San Camilo, in Santiago de Chile, where they re-enacted the Last Supper. In this action, one of the prostitutes, sitting at the centre of the table, plays the double role of Christ and Pinochet, saying: ‘This is the last supper of San Camilo, the last supper of this government.’ After offering bread and wine, she continues: ‘this is my body, this is my blood’, uncovering the hidden bonds between military authoritarianism and religious discourses.

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In the final years of Franco’s dictatorship in Spain, Ocaña made a series of transvestite appearances in the streets of Barcelona, staging spontaneous happenings and colourful parades. At the same time he recreated processions with papier-mâché Virgins he had made, disrupting the hegemonic codes of gender normativity and the control of public space dictated by the National-Catholic discourse. Ocaña inverts the conservative quality of the religious symbolic universe and transforms it into a joyful carnival of libertarian sexualities.

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In the late 1970s, Nahum Zenil made a series of homoerotic images that re-signified local popular iconography, national religious devotion and the image of the Mexican indigenous population. Zenil multiplied himself through self-portraits, taking on the roles of the Virgin, a bride, an apostle or a martyr. The artist imagines a playful, humoristic and utopian space where religious fervour is capable of accommodating open forms of understanding sexuality, pleasure and desire. The appropriation of Christian iconography and the language of liturgy transmute the vocabulary of subjugation into a ritual form of affirmation and resistance. – MAL 67

Errar de Dios 2014 Etcétera… and León Ferrari Palabras ajenas [Words of Others]: God’s Convesations with Some Men and of Some Men with Some Men and with God (1967) is a work by León Ferrari (1920-2013) that serves as the starting point for Etcétera…’s contribution to the 31st Bienal. ‘Written’ exclusively using fragments from the Bible and from statements by leading world figures from politics, religion, economics and culture culled from the mass media of the time, Ferrari’s text discloses the responsibility of the Catholic church, US imperialism and Nazism in twentieth-century wars.

Errar de Dios [Erring from God], Etcétera…’s participative installation, and the script written by Loreto Garín Guzmán and Federico Zukerfeld together with the philosopher and activist Franco ‘Bifo’ Berardi, is an essay on the new global balance following the financial crisis of 2008. The text gets Pope Francis, Angela Merkel, God, Monsanto, St Paul and Goldman Sachs, among others, ‘to speak’.

The mise en scène is structured around two courts facing one another, from which ‘spect-actors’ can make spontaneous speeches, superimposing their voices over the recorded text.

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This connection between Etcétera… and Ferrari is grounded in fifteen years of exchange between the two. Since it was first set up in Buenos Aires in 1997, the Etcétera… collective has been working on the interface between theatre, literature, art practice and activism. It began with grotesque performances in the escraches (a form of direct protest in which activists demonstrate outside the homes or workplaces of persons being denounced) carried out by human rights organisations against the genocide of the last military dictatorship in Argentina (1976-1983), and took an active part in the social movements that arose with the crisis in the country in 2001.

As part of the expansion of a network of ‘artivists’ in which they acted, in 2005 they founded the Movimiento Internacional Errorista. With the collective’s signature surrealist-based, humoristic-critical spirit, they extol error as a pivotal experience and call for a massive departure from the rationalist and speculative paradigm of contemporary capitalism. A kindred spirit also drives a large part of Ferrari’s work, and reveals a similar refusal to accept the dominant conditions of enunciation and cultural and political participation. – SGN 69

La Escuela Moderna 2014 Archivo F.X. / Pedro G. Romero Archivo F.X. is an institution working with a vast archive of images of anti-sacramental political iconoclasm in Spain between 1845 and 1945.

These images are classified according to a critical index of terms coming from the visual constructions of the broad field of the radical modernist project. For instance, a psychotechnic cell, or cheka, from the Santa Úrsula convent in Valencia is called Barracão, after the work by Hélio Oiticica.

The presentation centred on La Escuela Moderna [The Modern School] for the 31st Bienal works in several different ways. On one hand, it is a parodical portrait – in the classic sense of parody – of art’s archaeological and genealogical drives today, and reveals the existence of a secret movement that connects the rationalist pedagogy introduced by the Catalan educator and anarchist Francesc Ferrer i Guàrdia, which spread throughout Spain and other European countries, USA, the Philippines and Latin America, with some of the radical manifestations of art in our day. On the other, the display is also a commentary on the excesses of the so-called pedagogic shift that seems to have found in the field of the visual arts a practical 70

purpose and a comfortable political design for the overflow that comes from working with the unknown. Additionally, it addresses the failure of the radical modern project with paradoxical joy, accepting it as its own failure, in the knowledge that the rubble from its ruins makes the best material for the architecture of our present.

The connections between the Escuela Moderna and modern art are notable. Ferrer admired Ramón y Cajal’s scientific drawings (the installation design for the 31st Bienal takes them as its model) and Kupka’s social projections. Jean Vigo’s Zéro de conduite or Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan (both 1933), directed by Luis Buñuel and produced by Ramón Acín, are heavily influenced by it (both are screened in the installation). Man Ray began his artistic career at the Ferrer Center in New York. José Oiticica, Hélio Oiticica’s grandfather and most direct influence, started his political journey by mentioning Ferrer, and he supported the introduction of the Escuela Moderna in Brazil. In 1908 a school doctrinally linked with the Escuela Moderna was opened in São Paulo. – PGR 71

Espacio para abortar 2014 Mujeres Creando The contribution of Mujeres Creando – a collective of urban activists, feminists and anarchists based in La Paz and Santa Cruz de la Sierra in Bolivia – to the 31st Bienal is Espacio para abortar [Space to Abort]. The project consists of an urban intervention, which is a public and participative procession-performance against the dictatorship of patriarchy exercised over women’s bodies through a giant mobile uterus paraded and then temporarily placed in the Bienal pavilion. Once it sits in the Bienal, the idea for it is to open a space for debate and dialogue. In other words, the project creates a platform for discussing the meaning of abortion, the colonisation of the female body and what free choice, the right to decide and freedom of conscience actually mean in contemporary democracies – especially those in South American countries where abortion is illegal and penalised.

Throughout the duration of the Bienal, materials and voices from the local context will be included in order to identify and mobilise the ‘collective uterus’ as a space of enunciation that incubates everybody.

Ultimately, if we can speak of a collective uterus in São Paulo, it should be equally Bolivian, Italian and Japanese, Brazilian or Portuguese; it 72

should have many colours and heterogeneous cultural bonds; it should have a colonial past and integrate global migration flows in an industrial reality, against the backdrop of one of the biggest financial centres in the contemporary world.

Founded in La Paz in 1992, Mujeres Creando is an internationalist movement of working women (prostitutes, poets, journalists, market sellers, domestic workers, artists, dressmakers, teachers, etc.) fighting against sexism and institutionalised patriarchy in Bolivia and the rest of the world. With this goal, the members of Mujeres Creando operate like guerrilla fighters, opening spaces of visibility and uncovering others with their bodies, in the street, in the mass media and in international contemporary art spaces, inserting iconic slogans in its ideological circuits, for instance: ‘You can’t decolonise without depatriarchising!’, or ‘There is nothing more similar to a right-wing sexist than a left-wing sexist!’ – MJHC 73

The Excluded.

In a moment of danger 2014 Chto Delat The art collective Chto Delat (‘What is to be done’) have produced a new film for the 31st Bienal in which the institution of the prison links a number of tense historical moments of struggle, when competing visions of the world were at stake. By playing with time and using techniques of drama influenced by Bertolt Brecht, the film focuses on the prison as a place of discipline and isolation from society – both a punishment for wrongdoing and a dumping ground for those who do not fit within a given social consensus.

Prison serves as a concrete symbol of social control and morality, representing both the protective and repressive power of the state.

While prisons are sometimes safeguards of a shared order, they have often been used to ensure the survival of forms of government that are unpopular or under threat.

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Chto Delat’s film follows the many possible readings of this institution, gathering together prisoners who have later been understood by some as heroes or freedom fighters. Posing questions about the general nature of resistance, repression and disagreement, the film is the latest in a series of dramatic short moving-image works that use song and movement to talk about contemporary dilemmas.

Based in Saint Petersburg, Russia, Chto Delat partly respond to current developments in the country, where the political situation is tense and cultural actors are being silenced. Aside from their films, Chto Delat produce an irregularly published newspaper of the same name. – CE

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A família do Capitão Gervásio 2013 Kasper Akhøj and Tamar Guimarães

In the town of Palmelo in rural Goiás, Central Brazil, Tamar Guimarães and Kasper Akhøj recorded images of a healing session at the spiritual centre known as Luz da Verdade (literally, ‘The Light of Truth’) on 16 mm film. Founded in 1929 around a study group and a sanatorium, Palmelo now has a population of roughly 2,200. The majority of its inhabitants act as spiritual mediums who, in turn, operate as a collective group of complementary forces. Holding hands and facing a magnetiser, they practise a method which they call a ‘magnetic chain’ – a medical treatment based on a unique understanding of disease and health which contradicts our modern understanding and methods.

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The resulting film, A família do Capitão Gervásio [Captain Gervásio’s Family], intersperses images of Palmelo with footage of modern Brazilian architecture, shot in such cities as Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo and Brasília. Based on this construction, the film relates our modern cities to the twenty astral cities, whose coordinates were mapped inside Brazilian territory by one of Palmelo’s mediums and which have been described as ‘just like those that exist on Earth, but infinitely more perfect’. According to the artists’ projection or view, both types of cities aspire to the same ideals, like a kind of ectoplasm or projection of the future. In this way, past, present and future converge in an elaborate notion of existence, dream and reality.

A família do Capitão Gervásio is a continuation of the study that Tamar Guimarães began in 2006 about Francisco Candido Xavier, a celebrated Brazilian medium and psychographer, addressing the complexity of his work and public life in a country governed by a military dictatorship and with a turbulent past which continues to haunt it to this day. – LP 77

A fortaleza 2010 / Nada é 2014 Yuri Firmeza

In A fortaleza [The Fortress] Yuri Firmeza re-enacts, nearly twenty years later, a childhood photograph in which he strikes the classic bodybuilder’s pose, bending his elbows and flexing his muscles to demonstrate strength. Between one image and the other, aside from the growth of the boy into a man, our attention is called to the radical change in the background landscape. In one image, we see houses, a scattering of buildings and the horizon in the background. In the other, taller buildings crowd the once-empty spaces. The eye can’t see too far in Fortaleza, where the artist has lived since he was little: the city has literally become a fortress and Firmeza presents himself in front of it – joking around with his lean body while, at the same time, assuming his responsibility as a resident of the city.

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This reflection on memory and individual experiences, on the collective and common good of a group of people or a society appears in Nada é [Nothing Is] – his new work for the 31st Bienal – but the creative flux gives way to the opposite. The film began with a study of the city of Alcântara as a place for the manifestation of Brazil’s national projects in different periods, and culminated in the search for personal, subjective and current meaning for the place’s legacy. In the eighteenth century, the city was the first capital of the state of Maranhão, the home of wealthy sugar and cotton barons. When the colonial economy crumbled, Alcântara fell into obscurity and only regained national attention in 1990, when the Brazilian Air Force set up a launch centre for satellites.

The traditional celebration of the Divine Holy Spirit, held every year forty days after Easter, is presented as a feature of the city’s current vocation. In this limbo in which it exists between the prosperous past and the promise of an interplanetary future, discourses of science and religion are mixed together around the same ideology of faith in what could be, but, for some time now, still is not. – AMM 79

Handira 1997 / Bert Flint 1997-1998 / Granada 2002 Teresa Lanceta To weave is to interlace the threads on a warp with those of the weft following a specific pattern. It is a structural process that enables the simultaneous creation of object and language, of support and image, but, above all else, the weave is the human revelation of the arcane. This perspective on weaving is at the core of Teresa Lanceta’s practice. In suites like Granada, Handira or Bert Flint she engages with textile-making communities in the Middle Atlas in Morocco and in Granada, using their textile traditions to mature a personal proposition that allows her to take part in a collective, silent discovery that enables people to live, to communicate and to endure.

Lanceta conceives art as an open code that must be known in order to read, transform and transmit it. The majority of her work, especially her textiles, is predicated on the survival of the other, his or her memory.

Weaving gives Lanceta an understanding of a primal and universal code that clearly expresses its own inner law, that steps beyond physical, 80

temporal and cultural boundaries and nourishes the creative imagination. Through the agency of textiles she establishes contact with the art of the weavers who live in rural communities, a collective art governed by a set of rules, subject matters and ancestral customs which, when mastered, gives them access to expressive freedom and creation.

Craft and creativity are fused to achieve those decisive moments that transform the known and bring the concealed to the surface.

Lanceta’s work does not avoid an ecological engagement, and advocates the utility of art and collective creation as opposed to the idea of the individual genius. Collective art is presented here not as a uniform magma or an all-powerful all-doing hand, but as the outcome of the creativity of specific persons – although we don’t know their names, they are not faceless interchangeable beings but real individuals, unique and singular. In addition, collective work takes place over a unitary, extended time span as opposed to measured time, hours snatched from personal lives and subordinate to other, private interests. – TL/nem 81

Histórias de aprendizagem 2014 Voluspa Jarpa Voluspa Jarpa’s work questions the representations of history in various regimes of the image, most notably in the mass media and in art.

Histórias de aprendizagem [Learning Histories] is a labyrinthine installation comprising, on the one hand, CIA documents on the last dictatorship in Brazil (1964-1985) declassified a few years ago by the US government and, on the other, documents from the Brazilian secret service produced during the mandates of Getúlio Vargas (1951-1954) and João Goulart (1961-1964). The display also includes documents on the latter’s exile in Uruguay until he was allegedly assassinated in Argentina in 1976, within the frame of Operation Condor, a coordinated plan hatched by the dictatorships in the Southern Cone of South America.

For Jarpa, it is symptomatic that in all these documents some parts were erased before declassification. These erasures can be read as a form of hysterical behaviour, which in Freudian psychoanalysis stands for the inability to deal with trauma. In the terms of Sigmund Freud, trauma is an archived and negated narrative while the symptom is a coded archive. Jarpa incorporates the erasures from the original documents into the very structure of the installation, 82

foreclosing the spectator’s access to the documents in front of them and allowing them only partial glimpses of those in the background. In this way, possibility is experienced as impossibility, in turn speaking to a promise of disclosure that is in fact materialised as repression.

Jarpa has created many works based on archives declassified by the USA relating to Chile and other Latin American countries. In all cases, she analyses what has been erased and draws attention to the final image of the intervened document, an image that engages with the construction of visibilities and also the poetical and political potential of the uses of the archive, casting a shadow on the present. – SGN 83

Imponderables 2009 / Perímetros 2012-2014 Johanna Calle The suite of drawings Imponderables – one of the works by Johanna Calle in the 31st Bienal – consists in disjointed or broken grilles that bring to mind various everyday structures from our surrounding environs, such as the layout of urban grids or the railings or bars on a window. However, the starting point for these drawings lies somewhere else: Calle reproduces the grid-like structure of accountancy ledgers with wire and then transfers them to cardboard. Thanks to this simple act of decontextualisation, the iconic and symbolic resonances of the broken grille are multiplied, but the literal backdrop is maintained: once the accountancy grid is distorted, so too are the numbers it contains and, by metaphoric extension, the economic order that both the small shopkeeper and big multinationals strive to keep under control.

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Perímetros [Perimeters] the other suite of works on view in the exhibition, mingles two orders at odds with each other. On typing paper used for notarial records in Colombia throughout the twentieth century, containing details of ownership of rural parcels of land, Calle draws different species of trees that cut across the dividing lines of the pages of these records – negating their divisional purpose. In the breakdown of order Calle instigates, nature lays claim to its rights over the land undermined by the concentration of capital, which has led to the majority of Colombians losing the small parcels of land on which they have grown food to sustain themselves.

Calle’s work is grounded on drawing, not viewed strictly as a medium but as a whole conceptual universe. When she takes it towards other forms of writing – whether verbal or musical – it is to explore language as a system and, more particularly, the underlying powers at work in it. In the grid or mesh of semantics, morphology and syntax proper to each language, Calle operates by short-circuiting the rules and letting the signs silenced by power speak out. – SGN 85

In the Land of the Giants and other works 2009-2013 Jo Baer The six paintings presented by Jo Baer at the 31st Bienal all relate to a particular site in Ireland, where she lived in the early 1970s.

Near Baer’s home there was a mysterious stone with a hole through its centre. Known as the Hurlstone, it was said by the locals to have been thrown there by a giant. This foundational myth leads Baer to gather and release on her canvases the twilit energies hidden in all kinds of objects and symbols, drawn from different times and places.

Images are massed together, including self-portraits, Greek statues, animals and ancient religious structures. In one painting, they create a pictorial hole in time, in which old conflicts are reconciled, or at least put on hold. Christian and pagan symbols join forces in some paintings with skulls as well as Neolithic sculptures and carvings, in

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compositions that unsettle the gaze. Baer might refer to them as occupying a liminal zone, hovering between contrasting worlds and ideas.

Often there is an empty space in the images that gives room for the eye.

This is possibly a reference to the artist’s own biography. Jo Baer was born in the USA and was one of the few female artists to be recognised within the Minimal art movement. In the 1970s, her canvases were often reflective white fields with lines or blocks of colour on the edges. At one point, she understood Minimalism to be a dead end, and turned to what she termed ‘radical figuration’. In these recent works, there seems to be a coming to terms with all aspects of her practice and indeed of her life as a wanderer – she moved from New York to Ireland and has been settled in Amsterdam for the last thirty years. Here, Baer paints apparently timeless images that recognise many legacies, yet defiantly create their own world out of many things that at first glance do not exist. – CE 87

The Incidental Insurgents Part 1 & Part 2 2012-ongoing Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme

Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme’s The Incidental Insurgents is a two-part installation that offers a multi-layered narrative, engaging with the crisis of contemporary politics and the potential for a new social imaginary to emerge out of its collapse. The installation consists of images, texts, objects, sounds and video materials that, together, constitute an investigation into possibilities for the future based on literary and factual texts.

The first part, in two chapters, combines four stories: the early anarchist life of Victor Serge and his bandits in 1910s Paris; Abu Jilda and Arameet and their bandit gang involved in a rebellion against the British in 1930s Palestine; the artist as the quintessential bandit in Roberto Bolaño’s novel The Savage Detectives (1998), set in 1970s Mexico; and Abbas and Abou-Rahme themselves in present-day Palestine. This section looks at the resonance between these inspiring and sometimes tragic stories of outsider rebels often dismissed as mere criminals and excluded from the roll call of revolutionary struggle.

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The second part of the work looks at the metamorphosis of these incidental figures (Serge, Bolaño or the artists themselves) or the resonance of their final gestures years after they have been killed (Serge’s Bonnot Gang, Abu Jilda) by following them, who are somehow forgotten. In doing so, the work seeks to refuse the apparent ‘permanence’ of a capitalist-colonial present – and unfold a recurrent impulse of refusal, one that, though defeated many times, continues to resurge and return.

One recurring element in the second part of the narrative is a Palestinian publishing house. Established by the father of one of the artists, it served as an informal meeting point in Jerusalem for several of the political factions at the time, from the Palestinian Communist Party to Matzpen – a revolutionary organisation founded in 1962, mostly by Israelis and some Palestinians, that viewed Zionism as a colonising project. – GE

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Los incontados: un tríptico 2014 Mapa Teatro – Laboratorio de artistas

In painting, a triptych is a formal device comprising three sections or panels hinged together. In the recent history of Colombia, the agents of violence (guerrillas, drug traffickers, paramilitaries) have co-opted festivities and the vulnerability of bodies as a device for celebration, not only of life but also of death. Los incontados: un tríptico [The Uncounted: A Triptych] is an installation-archive conceived for the 31st Bienal which deploys in three interconnected spaces, like a triptych, the remains and traces of parties that have already finished and which the public will attend as the final witness.

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The first of the three festivities is a children’s party in the intimacy of a family living room, whose only trace is a radio left playing from which a voice keeps repeating ‘the revolution is a party’ (Los incontados [The uncounted], 2014); the second is a public celebration held every year in a remote village on the Pacific coast, of which all we see are a few fleeting images that show us that ‘the enemy has infiltrated the party’ (Los santos inocentes [The Innocent Saints], 2010); the third is a private party in which the leader of one of the most notorious drug cartels gives a frenzied speech on the legalisation of drugs, to the backdrop of music played by a band (Discurso de un hombre decente [Speech from a Decent Man], 2012).

From a poetic and micro-political perspective, Mapa Teatro, an interdisciplinary theatre and artists’ laboratory based in Bogotá, explores the public, private and intimate sphere of different parties and festivities in Colombia, those particular forms of appearance and theatricalisation of violence, as well as its effects on subjectivity and bodies. Over four years, Mapa Teatro has created various experimental artistic devices (performative, theatrical, audiovisual) from materials, objects and individuals it uncovers during its process of research and editing: visual and sound archives, documents and testimonials, experts and witnesses that give rise to images, actions, scores, mediaturgies and ethno-fictions. – MT 91

Inferno 2013 Yael Bartana In Inferno [Hell], Yael Bartana films the inauguration of a grand temple, its destruction and the worship of its debris. The starting point is the construction of a replica of Solomon’s Temple in São Paulo, by the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God, with stones imported from Israel. Inverting the traditional path taken by pilgrims, the church intends to literally bring part of the ‘holy land’ to the city of São Paulo, as a way of recuperating faith in the life of big cities characterised by their secularity.

The first Temple was built by Solomon in Jerusalem and destroyed in 584 BCE. The second Temple was erected on the same spot in 64 CE and also later destroyed. What remains of it today is known as the Wailing Wall. On a visit to the construction site of what would become the third version of Solomon’s Temple – this time in São Paulo – Bartana could envision no other possible future than the prophetic repetition of the past – in other words, its destruction. In what she calls a ‘pre-enacting’, the artist documents, between the forgetting and celebration of a fantasised past, the way that history is written and religions are founded.

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The growth of evangelical and neo-charismatic credos in Brazil has unleashed hybrid religious manifestations in which references to Judaism and Catholicism are combined, each church competing to prove closer proximity to the original faith. The construction of a biblical temple – in an attempt to go back to a biblical time – is one of the faith industry’s strategies in the fight for symbolic capital.

Interested in registering the rituals that organise and orient our day-to-day actions, Bartana has previously drawn on fiction to create new rituals, founded political movements and composed national narratives, suggesting that art can design possible futures. In Inferno it is the creation of a mythical past that announces ruins to come. – BS 93

Invention 2014 Mark Lewis Exhibition design in collaboration with Adam Bandler and Mark Wasiuta.

Director of photography Martin Testar

The large-scale installation Invention is based on a simple, yet hugely provocative fictional assumption. The premise of the work is that a parallel world developed in which the technologies of the moving image were not invented until the early twenty-first century. From this starting point, Invention speculates about how we would look at images if cinema, television and online moving-image platforms did not exist, or were just on the point of being introduced.

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What results is an environment in which there is no longer an easy escape from our immediate surroundings, but rather those surroundings become subject to the experience of looking. Through the manipulation of reflection and light, as well as the simple recording and displacement of images of reality using the newly discovered video camera, this alternative 2014 offers a different kind of visual experience from that of the screen and the narrative of film.

Walking around and through it, we might think about our usual patterns of image consumption and what their limitations or constraints might be. By being confronted with an idea that never happened, we are given an opportunity to reflect on what our actual world excludes. – CE 95

It’s Just the Spin of Inner Life 2011-2014 Agnieszka Piksa Pairing imagery sourced from a publication on Polish folk art with illustrations from a 1970s popular science book on the origins of the universe, the collage Justice for Aliens – one of the many that will be published as part of a small fanzine freely distributed during the 31st Bienal – suggests that modern scientific imagination may not be so distant from that of ancient animist rituals.

After all, both ceremonial icons and diagrams about faraway

galaxies can be seen as attempts to represent the unknown, fuzzy black-and-white astronomical images offering no less obscure clues than tribal patterns drawn on the pavement.

Underpinning this parody of science fiction comics, however, is the sombre realisation that whereas pre-modern cultures regarded otherness with awe, the vilification of aliens in popular science fiction both reflects and fuels the angst that modern societies systematically project onto the colonial, ethnic or sexual other – a fear often used to justify their subjugation.

Claiming ‘justice for aliens’ may indeed not be such an absurd 96

demand when far less strange aliens are unlikely to be greeted ‘with flowers and a glass of wine’, as one of the captions begs, at today’s heavily policed borders.

Justice for Aliens is an episode from the graphic novel Gvozden (Serbian for ‘Ironman’, 2013), the result of a two-year collaboration between Polish artist Agnieszka Piksa and Serbian scriptwriter Vladimir Palibrk. In spite of the hyperbolic undertones of his name, Gvozden is presented as an anti-heroic ‘everyman’ whose enemies are not evil superheroes but equally corrupt forms of representation: from advertising to corporate language and from sexual stereotypes to violence in film.

At times expressionistic, at others quasi-abstract, Piksa’s mostly black-and-white drawings refuse to abide by the rules of style. Like her collages and conceptual word-diagrams, they are experiments in the visual analysis of language, which seek to give a graphic form to the associations, contradictions and assumptions implicit in seemingly innocuous everyday communication. – HV 97

Landversation 2014 Otobong Nkanga

In 2012, Otobong Nkanga presented at Tate Modern, in London, Contained Measures of Shifting States, an installation composed of tables, and at the same time a platform for interaction between the artist and museum visitors. The piece also served as a study of the Tate’s collection and the relationships that visitors of different cultural origins are able to establish with it. Nkanga invited the public to engage in a dialogue regarding the intangibility of identity, memory and perception, observing how these things change when presented through specific arrangements and narrations.

Like in much of Nkanga’s work, the artist was the protagonist of the action, ‘dynamising’ four circular tables that contained such elements as liquid, ice, smoke and heat, which were seen or experienced in constant movement and changing states. In the eyes of the public, the alteration and changes took on a tangible character, addressing matters as elementary as they are often difficult to define and describe, for example identity in the contemporary world.

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At the 31st Bienal, Nkanga follows up this previous work with Landversation, an installation that changes focus from the institution’s interior (the collection) to the exterior: the interconnections that Brazil and Brazilians establish with the land. A series of tables forming a circular structure serve as the basis for an exchange between the artist, visitors and a group of people who all have close – professional, caring, vital – relationships with the earth. These people might include geologists, housing and land rights activists, miners, people who use the land for farming, as well as others who transform the land itself into other products. What is ordinarily constructed through their contact with land now forms the foundation for new situations of exchange and transmission, and an exploration of the interpersonal networks established in the exhibition context of the Bienal and beyond, in the world at large. – MM 99

Letra morta 2014 Juan Pérez Agirregoikoa Director of photography José Mari Zabala

With Letra morta [Dead Letter], Juan Pérez Agirregoikoa has made a film based on Pier Paolo Pasolini’s The Gospel According to St Matthew from 1964, shot on the outskirts of São Paulo. Although the new film maintains some of the original’s formal and aesthetic elements, the script has been rewritten to shift the focus toward some biblical verses that the Italian director had overlooked. These passages – for instance, the parable in which the successful investor is rewarded and failure in business is punished – are, to Pérez Agirregoikoa’s way of thinking, key to the discursive undergirding of Western capitalism.

Over the last thirteen years, after abandoning abstraction, Juan Pérez Agirregoikoa has been working with the subversion of discourses on power and obedience. His interventions sometimes consist of minimum changes introduced into more or less well-known sentences, such as when he removes the word ‘no’ from some of the Judaeo-Christian Ten Commandments.

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At other times, and in contrast, he makes a replacement. For instance, he hired a chamber choir to sing four popular Spanish and Basque songs but with lyrics taken from texts by French materialist philosophers. Thus, the original folkloric tracks are overlaid with issues pertaining to matter, the use of libidinal energy by the economy, praxis as the matrix of appearance and revolution.

That said, far from subscribing to a ‘correct’ way of thinking, Pérez Agirregoikoa destabilises all references, including the commonplace in which a quasi-universal consensus might possibly exist.

To this end, on a large canvas we have a list of all the wars undertaken by the USA in the twentieth century, while on another he writes: ‘Capitalism is fabulous’. Instead of allegiance, what these operations look for is to undermine worldviews that are crystallised and, in consequence, foreclose any possibility of individual and social transformation.

In Letra morta, the same operation is at play: a questioning of the worldview imposed by a religion that, very often, prompts a weakening of individual and community power. – SGN

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Letters to the Reader (1864, 1877, 1916, 1923) 2014 Walid Raad

Letters to the Reader is part of the ongoing art project Scratching on Things I Could Disavow, initiated in 2007, and which responds to the recent emergence of large new infrastructures for ‘Islamic’ contemporary and modern ‘Arab’ art in the Arab world and elsewhere.

The artworks and stories presented in his project all emerge from encounters on this ground with individuals, institutions, economies, concepts and forms.

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Letters to the Reader proposes a number of prefabricated wall samples for a new Museum of Modern Arab Art in São Paulo – or Amman or Doha or Abu Dhabi or Beirut or Marrakech or Hong Kong or New York.

The work is led by the conviction that many so-called ‘Modern Arab artworks’ will lack shadows when displayed in the new museum. In anticipation of this situation, the project is, on the one hand, forced to engage some of the display elements or parameters (walls, floors, paint, lights) that contribute to this shadow-less condition; and on the other, to be attentive to its consequences by coming up with possible material antidotes and/or dealing with the resulting (objective) hallucinatory manifestations.

Like in earlier work, time and history are present here in an enigmatic manner: in the form of archives that approached history, memory and remembrance with the aid of photography, film, design, architecture and discourse. These presented something akin to a ‘future in the past’, the staging of a dream reality without a referent, or at least with an obscure (or obscured) referent. A ‘future in the past’ characterised by the constant sliding between historical and fictitious narration that happens when memory is activated – revealing how much these fields actually share. – WR 103

Línea de vida / Museo Travesti del Perú 2009-2013 Giuseppe Campuzano More than a decade ago, the Peruvian philosopher and drag queen Giuseppe Campuzano (Lima, 1969-2013) created the project Línea de vida / Museo Travesti del Perú [Life’s Timeline / Transvestite Museum of Peru]. This museum is an attempt to present a queer counternarrative: a promiscuous, intersectional thinking of history that collects objects, images, texts and documents, press clippings and appropriated artworks, and proposes actions, stagings and publications that fracture the dominant models of production of images and bodies. The project, halfway between performance and historical research, proposes a critical reviewing of the ‘History of Peru’ from the strategic perspective of a fictional figure Campuzano calls the ‘androgynous indigenous/mixedrace transvestite’. Here, transgender, transvestite, transsexual, intersexual and androgynous figures are posited as the central actors and main political subjects for any construction of history.

Unlike large institutional projects and their discourses of authority, this nomadic museum does not attempt to ‘represent’ and integrate minorities into the dominant discourses of progress and happiness.

It is, rather, a deliberately artificial device that dramatises official 104

histories and fractures the privileged site of heterosexual subjectivity – a subjectivity that turns all difference into an object of study and renders invisible its own contingency and the social processes that led to its constructions.

This mobile condition also refers to several other transits and movements, such as the mass return-exodus from the provinces to the capital and forms of migration through other invisible subjects whose lives are permanently suspended (the HIV-positive, the undocumented immigrant, those sexually undefined…). The museum’s portable condition – its ability to function as a parasite to any scenario, from public squares, street markets and neighbourhood fairs, to university conferences – has also allowed it to question forms of orthodox activism, proposing instead an amorphous and elusive political subject.

The Museo Travesti del Perú functions as an experimental wager that vandalises classical theory and history through an irreverent rewriting of transversal imaginaries, referents and knowledges, for a subject unable and unwilling to fit in any existing taxonomy. – MAL 105

Loomshuttles, Warpaths 2009-ongoing Ines Doujak and John Barker The starting point of the ongoing artistic research project Loomshuttles, Warpaths is a collection of textiles from the Andean region made over a period of 35 years. It includes ancient and modern cloth and clothing, hand-made and mass-produced, of both natural and synthetic fibres, made using a variety of techniques. From this research, two ‘chapters’ have emerged.

One is a fashion line called Haute Couture / Not Dressed for Conquering – a title that echoes the ‘casual’ response beggars in 1619 Lima gave to the Spanish invaders’ demand that they should work instead of asking for money. The line involves the design of themed printed fabric, and also contains the patterns for specific items such as shirts and bags that are themselves enriched by other media: songs, sculptures, texts, films or performances. The line includes two fabrics that are presented in the 31st Bienal: Haute Couture 03 Carnival: Disruptive Pattern; A Mask is Always Active and Haute Couture 04 Transport: Oiling the Wheels; Supply Chains and Load Carriers.

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The second chapter is an Eccentric Archive – eccentric in the literal sense of being off-centre, both in composition and movement. The chapter follows the trajectory created by the colonial invasion of the Americas, thereby linking the items in the collection to the globalised history and present-day realities of textile and clothing production and consumption. The archive consists of poster collages featuring descriptions of the items in the collection, and responses to each from a number of invited artists and writers. The archive is completed by two further sections on dates and the names of cloths or colours, both of which are announced on the posters. While the dates refer to the continuing struggles of workers in the textile and clothing industries and to rebellion using style of dress over the last 600 years, the cloths and colours show how entangled within imperialist history textiles and dyes have been, and still are. – ID / JB

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Map 2014 Qiu Zhijie

Map making is one of the fundamental ways that Western society has come to terms with the world. Through maps, the unknown is made visible and understandable. Yet maps have also been used to frighten off potential visitors, as in the famous ‘here be monsters’ rubric on early European maps of the continents of North and South America.

Qiu Zhijie uses these histories and techniques of map making, together with a Chinese ancient tradition of mapping imaginary places, to construct unexpected narratives, imaginary cities or strange utopian locations, such as his Map of Utopia or Map of Total Art. He was trained as a calligrapher, and uses these skills when rendering his free hand-drawn maps.

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For the 31st Bienal, Qiu Zhijie has drawn a large-scale map that functions as a curious pathfinder for the journey ahead, through the exhibition. The map is based on some of the curatorial and artistic ideas behind the Bienal itself, merged with the artist’s own reflections while he was here preparing the image. It is drawn directly on a wall that leads from the Park area into the Ramp area, and will disappear once the Bienal closes on 7 December 2014. In this way, the idea of the map as a permanent rendition of a geographic landscape is rejected in favour of the temporary, subjective aspects of map making – aspects that are always present no matter how neutral or scientific the map claims to be. – CE

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Martírio 2014 Thiago Martins de Melo

‘Flesh is the reason oil painting was invented.’ This quote from Willem De Kooning is presented by Thiago Martins de Melo as the key to understanding his relationship with painting, made of visually elaborate allegories that are always punctuated by opposing factors, like the feminine and the masculine, the sacred and the profane, the intimate and the public. Still, in his work, the coexistence of opposites – aside from calling attention to the ambivalent nature of the human condition, such as that of the seventeenth-century Baroque – addresses the religious and cultural syncretism that characterises the history of Latin America’s colonies and structures their contemporary societies, like in Brazil.

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In Martírio [Martyrdom], oil paint is truly flesh, taking on mass and extrapolating the thickness of the canvas, as if the painting were violent, or violated. The piece combines sculptures, taking on the form of an installation, a setting which can be entered. It also carries the logic of a painting, but takes the form of a threshold, a space between the entrance and the inside, neither here nor there: a purgatory. Martírio is an overview of the Amazon: ‘a landscape on the periphery of the international capital’, in the artist words, referring to the role that the forest plays in an economy of exploitation which, since the arrival of Portuguese colonists in 1500, has changed in configuration, but never been overcome.

The piece pays homage to the martyrs of the Amazon, hundreds of workers and community leaders who died anonymously in the fight to defend the land. A virgin landscape and the image of Carajás as a large desert: the result of extractive trends which, to this day, remain hungry for its natural resources, framed by a fence of columns imposed by the civilisation process. This is the setting for the encounter between two caboclos who follow Vodum, an African religion that draws followers to São Luís, the artist’s hometown. Its presence is one of protection as well as conflict, two sensations the installation aims to make spectators feel in their own flesh. – AMM 111

Meeting Point and other works 2011-2014 Bruno Pacheco

In the two sets of images presented at the 31st Bienal, Bruno Pacheco furthers the exploration on the formation of collectives and their different modes of operation.

In these images, gatherings of people occupy the entire canvas space, in what appears to be a protest – perhaps a political protest, a social gathering or a coming together with a different intention or motivation.

The images, by positioning us as onlookers on the outside of these gatherings, cause us to consider the nature of collective action, ways of participating in it and the visibility shaped within urban space. In the context of the economic and socio-political instability that has characterised the early twenty-first century, collective action shows ways of mobilisation that are different from those of the ‘revolutions’ of past centuries. With little or no hierarchy – no command centre organising the movement – people come together and dedicate some 112

of their time to achieving an objective. Still, we can’t tell if these groups exist to be perceived by others or if they exist for themselves. Pacheco transmits the fragmented and random nature of collective action through a display that implicates the eyes of the public in the set-up.

Whether it be a result or a process, the organisation of the work into series reveals an understanding of painting as a linguistic system in constant development. In it, images do not have an end in themselves, and sequences and repetitions are conceived in order to be rethought as well as reinterpreted, with the intention of engendering a public and social construction of meaning. The struggle is to create something singular and profound out of the real movement of socialised abstractions, which tend towards the repetition of formulas.

With the borders between various artistic practices becoming permeable, one of the main characteristics of contemporary painting has been a continual ‘re-mediatisation’, or in other words, the claiming of properties that are attributed to other art forms. In Pacheco’s case, it is photography, in its various printed or virtual incarnations, that constitutes a base of reference for the construction of images. – MM 113

Muhacir 2003 Gülsün Karamustafa Gülsün Karamustafa’s work has often reflected upon the hardships of forced migration as political, ethnic and economic borders are continuously redrawn. She first addressed this issue in a series of sculptural installations from the early 1990s that use fabric to evoke the vulnerability of displaced subjects. In Kuryeler [Courier] (1991), for example, three plain, white children’s vests have scraps of paper and film fragments sewn inside, which we can barely make out through the semi-translucent fabric. Nearby an unattributed quote recalls how, when crossing frontiers, exiles would give children their most precious possessions for safekeeping, framing the work within a subjective but unspecific lived experience.

Muhacir [The Settler] considers the impact of forced displacement upon women’s lives in the context of the wars that tore apart the Western Balkans in the 1990s. Dedicated to both of Karamustafa’s grandmothers, the double-screen film is loosely inspired by the ordeal that brought their families to Istanbul (one from Crimea through Bulgaria, the other from today’s Bosnia and Herzegovina). As in Kuryeler, however, these biographical references are abstracted to represent a common history: the recurring wars and migratory waves that have scarred the region since the late nineteenth century, hence putting the recent conflict in 114

historical perspective. As if bringing two old postcards to life, the film uses a symmetrical structure to counterpose the portraits of a headscarf-clad and western-looking woman, set against the backdrop of a Balkan village and a Western Turkish city. With the outbreak

of war, they are dispossessed of their belongings and made to swap places, the interstice between both screens standing in for the frontier between countries. Even if we might first think that they have each now landed in the right context, their apparent estrangement reminds us that identification processes and feelings of belonging are far more complex than merely matching figure and ground. – HV

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Mujawara 2014 Sandi Hilal, Alessandro Petti and Grupo Contrafilé Sandi Hilal and Alessandro Petti have been recently working on Campus in Camps, an educational platform that enables communities of Palestinian refugees to produce new forms of representation of the camps and of themselves, overcoming the static symbols of victimisation, passivity and poverty.

Meanwhile, the Contrafilé group has developed the project A rebelião das crianças [The Children’s Uprising], which saw the creation of Quintais [Backyards] as its most recent stage. In this project, the collective processes established through playing enable a territory of freedom that activates in our bodies a potency-landscape, allowing us to create the space in which we live our lives.

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Sandi Hilal and Alessandro Petti and Contrafilé were challenged by the 31st Bienal’s curatorial team to come up with a joint project.

They soon noticed the similarities between their research – most notably, both groups have been working on the ambivalence of how one relates to the land, as an incontestable proof of commonality as well as a territory fertile with contradictions.

Contrafilé introduced TC Silva (the founder of Mocambos network and active in the integration of the political struggles of indigenous people, landless workers and communities of quilombolas) to Petti and Hilal, who brought with them the experience of mujawara (the Arabic word for ‘neighbourhood’), an environment of libertarian, decolonising education.

As a central situation that encompasses all others, a mujawara was set up in the south of Bahia between Palestinian refugees, quilombolas, researchers, artists, indigenous people and members of the Landless Workers’ Movement (MST). Acting in a network, they organised talks and situations that fostered the debate on displacement, exile and the construction of identities – concepts that are inherent to today’s definition of ‘collectivity’. As a result of this work, a book has been published telling the story of the process, and an installation has been built inside the pavilion’s Park area. – WS 117

The Name Giver 2013 Michael Kessus Gedalyovich

As an artist and writer, Michael Kessus Gedalyovich’s work is always in dialogue with Jewish mysticism. The Name Giver takes the biblical story of the creation as its starting point. In the first book of Genesis, God’s creation is completed when he populates it with mankind. The story of this part of creation is unclear. At first, God is said to create both male and female in parallel, or as female and male in one body. Later it is said that God creates Adam first, who is then given the power to name all the other animals as he wishes. Only afterwards is the female Eve created from Adam’s own rib, as a means of overcoming man’s loneliness.

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In the following chapters of the biblical narrative, it is Eve who takes the dominant role, negotiating with the snake and feeding Adam from the Tree of Knowledge. After their expulsion from Eden, Eve takes upon herself the right to give names without consulting God, and names her child Cain (in Hebrew the word ‫קיניין‬, Cainan, comes from the root word for ‘possession’). Cain then continues the lineage of defiance that results from Eve’s activism.

The Name Giver relates to the confusion, indecisiveness, changing and turning in the Genesis story. It reminds us of how there is a need to order the world. Here, just as in the Bible, it is the woman who sees the big picture and takes responsibility, even though traditionally patriarchal societies would always see men in this role. – GE

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Não é sobre sapatos 2014 Gabriel Mascaro For Não é sobre sapatos [It Is Not About Shoes] Gabriel Mascaro has conducted a study of images filmed during the recent protests in several Brazilian cities. As in other countries, in order to provide an alternative to the official press, protestors created their own way of communicating their actions in the public realm, announcing actions via social networks and registering the presence of their collective body on the streets with their own cameras. This documentation on the internet, introduces a rupture in the production of discourse and denounces the violence exerted by the police against protestors.

But instead of using his own registers or those captured by protestors, Mascaro focusses on the images recorded by the police, inverting the narration of the protest and at the same time asking: ‘How should we think about the aesthetic, political and authorial premise of images produced by the state via its agents, filming with the goal of policing, keeping public order and recording faces for prosecution?’ The interplay established by the two elements – state and citizen – which confront one another with the same instrument or 120

weapon – the camera – reveals a different manner of seizing power and domination, manifested in the realm of visibility and the exercise of representing the other.

Included in the footage used by Gabriel Mascaro are many images of shoes – new elements of legal evidence, being that protestors are known to change their tops during their actions, but not their shoes. The footage constitutes a curious tool for considering the strong and weak points of anonymity (or the anonymous) in current political protests, leading Mascaro to another question: ‘In an age of anonymous faces, what shall we do with our feet?’ – LP

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Não-ideias 2001-ongoing Marta Neves

‘In 1974, Lucimar wanted to come up with an idea to make some money and get her husband out of a jam. She couldn’t think of anything and they remain poor.’ ‘All his life Babalu wanted to be Jesus Christ, but since he had no idea how to turn himself into the Saviour, he got a job at Banco do Brasil.’

‘C had no idea how to sexually approach his former economics teacher and the current mayor, and, to this day, he leads a bitter life as a solitary homosexual.’

These are just a few of the many sentences that make up Marta Neves’s series Não-ideias [Non-Ideas]. All of them suggest inner desires or the urge to change present conditions – from the most ordinary to the most unusual and ambitious – which are made inviable due to a lack of ideas for achieving them on the part of the protagonists. Imagination itself is hampered by an absence of imagination. Still, in Marta Neves’s narrative, the unresolved proposition – supposedly viewed as failure – returns in a good-humoured manner when faced with the difficulty of taking 122

initiatives within our ordinary existence. This void of non-ideas is, curiously, the most precious source of people’s imaginations – demonstrated by a certain odd brilliance in their stories. Letting the ideas rest seems to be the only way to maintain the ability to have new ones.

In the fast-paced grind of contemporary big cities, it seems impossible to imagine the experience of disenchantment – from the more private and intimate realms to collective, social circles, characterised by an increasing distrust in our economic and political systems – as capable of generating some sort of productivity. In response, Não-ideias, like Marta Neves’s other artistic actions, are an obligatory step for reconnecting with the world; an opening for publicly sharing ‘non-ideas’, and therefore invent new ways of imagining. – LP

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Nosso Lar, Brasília 2014 Jonas Staal In the years 1944 and 1956, Brazil saw two cities emerge from two fundamental pilars of the country’s imagery, Spiritism and Modernism. The latter was the new capital, Brasília, which, built in a vacant area in the middle of the nation’s territory and inaugurated in 1960, has played an important symbolic role in forming the country’s image as a modern state. The first was Nosso Lar [Our Home]: a city which spiritists believe to hover above the earth ‘on an extensive region in the state of Rio de Janeiro (between the cities of Rio de Janeiro, Itaperuna and Campos dos Goytacazes)’ – as described by the famous medium Chico Xavier.

According to Xavier, Nosso Lar is the place where the good spirits ‘de-incarnate’ after death, before preparing themselves for their re-incarnation on earth.

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Although the metaphysical project of Spiritism and the administrative enterprise of Modernist architecture seem to run in opposition to one another, Jonas Staal’s project Nosso Lar, Brasília posits that their comparable attempts at engineering social structures and gatherings allow us to consider them as part of a parallel project.

Rather than adopting a linear perspective, Staal approaches the fields of art and architecture as spaces that allow us to engage with parallel, interrelated and sometimes opposing histories. Nosso Lar, Brasília therefore comprises a publication, maps, narrative video and a series of models that explore the similarities, as well as the differences, between the two cities and the historical movements they result from. Using these various components, the artist develops an infrastructure that engages with overlapping, conflicting or confronting understandings of time and spatiality, attempting to redefine our place not within but between multiple historical narratives. – NEM/PL 125

O que caminha ao lado 2014 Erick Beltrán

Concerned with creating systems capable of organising large volumes of wide-ranging information, as well as proposing non-conventional forms of reading and putting these materials into circulation, Erick Beltrán is taking part in the 31st Bienal with two projects that use the book format as an experimental support structure.

The first project, O que caminha ao lado [Double Goer] consists of an intervention in the library-auditorium designed by the curatorial team for reading, concerts, colloquiums and other events. This space contains duplicated volumes from the Bienal de São Paulo Foundation Archive, which, once the exhibition is over, will be donated to União Popular das Mulheres, a network of cultural producers in Campo Limpo, in the periphery of São Paulo.

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However, as this production is eminently oral, to bring it together, Beltrán, alongside members of the network, has created an archive of loose pages that includes recipes, songs, poetry and drawings among other things. On opening any of the books in the library, the public will find not only these scattered documents, but also pages related with the theme of the double in its manifold expressions: the doppelgänger, the unconscious, and so on. As such, the library breaks down the distinction between low and high culture, with the book taking on the function of support for non-learned production. The exchange will be completed at the end of the Bienal, when the books move to UPM, and it, in turn, donates its archive to the Bienal.

The second project consists of the co-editing of the Bienal’s publications with its curatorial team. Also in this case, Beltrán took the architectural project into account, translating the idea of the decentred and partial parcours conceived for the exhibition space to the publications. As the main publication, Beltrán has devised a multiple-access book that underscores the visualisation of the exhibition’s core themes by structuring it in textual ‘zones’ alternating with ‘zones’ of images, independently of the authorship of the works. – SGN 127

Of Other Worlds That Are in This One 2014 / One Hundred Thousand Solitudes 2012-2014 Tony Chakar Tony Chakar belongs to a generation of Lebanese artists and intellectuals whose most pressing concerns are the Lebanese war and post-war, and, in his particular case, how this past reappears in the present to define a catastrophic space-time. Memory as a performative practice is activated in his work by means of images and texts culled from varying sources, ranging from personal narratives to literary, mythological and biblical references. For him, text-images are the manifestation of the ghosts of the past (‘memory’) in our world, in the same way that the old Christian icons were the manifestation of the holy in the world of the profane.

On Other Worlds That Are on This One is made up of images taken by Chakar with his mobile phone. An architect by training, Chakar makes photographs that do not usually contain people, although the odd one sometimes makes their way into his images. When processing them on his computer, a facial recognition programme is immediately activated, and sometimes it is not faces that the software identifies, but other objects like car wheels or parts of a façade. It is this ‘technical failure’ that Chakar is interested in. He is certain that whenever we try to translate something from our physical world to a hyper-technological 128

one, which is solely based on quantity, glitches like this are bound to happen – caesuras in technology’s hyper-rational infinite and homogeneous space-time continuum. In other times, mystics identified these moments as ‘moments of vision’, because they create a tear in our own world, giving an insight into another.

Images found in a technological context are also at the core of Chakar’s lecture-performance One Hundred Thousand Solitudes. This work examines images that came out of the Arab revolutions and from different Occupy movements around the world. The images are singularities, singular moments, that lead to the declaration of the coming of Messianic times – without a Messiah: the dead coming back to life, rivers turning into blood, people speaking in tongues, the last becoming first, the reversal of historical order, men turning into women and vice versa. These images were not witnessed firsthand, but through social media (mainly Facebook and YouTube). – NEM/tc

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Ônibus Tarifa Zero 2014 Graziela Kunsch

For this project, São Paulo’s municipality was approached with the idea of having a free city bus, with no known destination, that would circulate throughout the city during the months of the 31st Bienal. The expression ‘tarifa zero’ (‘fare free’) would be written where the bus’s destination would normally be displayed. This bus would pick up and drop off commuters at existing bus stops and would not stop at the Bienal building. It may well stop at Ibirapuera Park, but this is beside the point.

More important is the suggestion of displacement itself as a place, and the encouragement of other ways of getting around.

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In his book Rebel Cities (2013), geographer David Harvey holds that the right to the city must not be limited to the right to access to existing urban spaces. It is, above all, the right – and responsibility – to remake the city; an active right to make the city different, based on our desires. By adopting the image of a city bus with no turnstile (or fare), this work contributes to the collective construction of a different kind of imagery in the city, in dialogue with the struggle of the activist organisation Movimento Passe Livre (‘Free Pass Movement’), soon to complete its tenth year of activity.

There was no way of knowing, at the time this guide went to print, whether the municipality would actually agree to the proposal, or if adaptations would have to be made. But the Tarifa Zero bus can exist, at least as a project – or as a horizon, a destination – in an effort of collective, radical imagination. – GK 131

Open Phone Booth 2011 Nilbar Güreş The city of Bingöl, in Turkish Kurdistan, where some of Güreş’s extended family live, is inhabited mainly by the Kurdish and Alevi minority – brutally discriminated against by the policies of the central state. One of the forms of discrimination is to deny people access to the most basic infrastructure.

After attempts to provide practical solutions to the city’s isolation were systemically turned down by the government, Güreş decided to record, via video and photographs, the inventive solutions that the inhabitants came up with. The resulting images, under the title Open Phone Booth, of which a three-channel video is included in the 31st Bienal, constitute a kind of social fresco. They give, for example, an account of the simple practice of going to the highest part of the village in order to get a better mobile phone signal, turning a contemporary technology into an instrument for a quasi-mystical exercise.

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Güreş also registered situations that, at first sight, might seem ordinary and indeed marginal to the project’s central concerns.

Yet these images add extra information and open up the work to other meanings. Through subtly ironic titles, Güreş manages for a simple lamppost to be viewed as a sculpture, a number of metal buckets to be seen as a still life, and a woman on a rocky outcrop as a performer. Similarly to what happens with other works by her, here the images straddle the line between comic and tragic, between realism and the absurd, between the ‘testimony’ of the document and the ‘semblance’ of the mise en scène. – SGN

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The Placebo Scroll 2014 Michael Kessus Gedalyovich

The Placebo Scroll follows a journey from the Eden Hills in Israel to the Peruvian Amazon, by way of the Moroccan plains. Gedalyovich embarked on this journey in order to meet healers, shamans, rabbis, priests and amulet-makers who might have knowledge unknown or unrecognised outside their communities. The artist exchanges experiences with them and records the process on an illustrated scroll, which serves as a journal or captain’s log in a way similar to disparate traditions ranging from China to the Torah, from the Dead Sea Scrolls to the Middle East. Gedalyovich’s journey started on 15 March 2014, at the start of Purim – a holiday that originates on the equinox, from which April Fool’s day also stems.

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The purpose of Gedalyovich’s journey is to search for cures for diseases that have not yet been identified. Through this, he hopes to find ways to recapture the mysterious and magical power of art – a capacity that was put aside during modern times, mostly replaced by conflicts over aesthetics, politics and money.

In addition to the scroll, the 31st Bienal includes a collection of talisman pills in a small cabinet. The talismans were painted by Gadalyovich onto medical pills, and are accompanied by a description of their healing power and after-effects. These pills can be seen as contemporary amulets related to old Jewish traditions such as the mezuzah. Due to the proscription of idols, Jewish amulets emphasise text and names – shape, material and colour make no difference. – GE 135

A Research 2014 Lia Perjovschi Lia Perjovschi’s practice is shaped by her curiosity about the cultural, social and political context in which she lives – a context that, like her art, has changed dramatically over the past four decades. If early performances such as Proba somnului [The Test of Sleep] (1988) denounced the strains that Ceauşescu’s dictatorship placed upon the bodies and minds of her fellow Romanians, Lupt pentru dreptul meu de a fi diferita [I’m Fighting for My Right to Be Different] (1993) evidenced her struggle to assert her identity in the midst of a newly found political freedom and increasingly pervasive consumerist imperatives.

Eager to fill the knowledge gaps carved out by years of isolation and censorship, in the late 1980s and 90s Perjovschi collected publications and ephemera on recent international art and organised gatherings with other artists and intellectuals at her studio in Bucharest. Initially titled Contemporary Art Archive, she renamed this project-cum-institution Contemporary Art Analysis in 1999, aware that the knowledge economy of the new millennium begged less for access to information than for interpretation thereof. The subjective nature of her archive has come to the fore in her Timelines (My Subjective Art History from Modernism till 136

Today) (1990–2004) and Mind Maps/Diagrams (1999–ongoing), compositions of handwritten notes and images sourced from books or the internet, which chart her understanding not only of recent art but also of more general culture, science and politics – an interdisciplinary research that she conceives as an imaginary Knowledge Museum. Titles such as General Timeline 1: From Dinosaurs to Google Going China (1997–2006) are indicative of her quixotic desire to know, while the diagrams The Rich People of the World and Top Art Collectors (both 2009 and both only depicting men) reveal her political standpoint.

A Research, the mind map on display at the 31st Bienal, offers up a freeze-frame of her research on the context and history of the Bienal from her studio in Sibiu, Romania – a partial and subjective view of here from there. – HV 137

Resimli Tarih 1995 Gülsün Karamustafa

Shortly after graduating in 1969, Gülsün Karamustafa was convicted for hiding a political fugitive at her home in Istanbul and consequently had her passport annulled until 1987. This was a period of massive migration from rural areas to the city, leading to the creation of large, run-down suburban settlements. The clash between the newcomers’ Anatolian culture and urban life produced hybrid cultural forms known as arabesk, after the musical genre that popularised Asian-influenced commercial songs amongst the lower classes.

Having come into close contact with this kitsch culture while working as an art director in film, in the mid-to-late 1980s Karamustafa began to appropriate wall carpets found in migrants’ homes in a series of textile collages that earned her the label of ‘arabesque painter’. This subtly belittling moniker reveals the provocation inherent in the artist’s use of popular imagery, which was bluntly dismissed by the middle-class intelligentsia to which she belongs.

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Although informed by her use of textile collage in this earlier series of works, Resimli Tarih [Illustrated History] responds to the new global context that began to emerge after the fall of the Berlin Wall.

This hand-sewn, seven-metre-long collage takes the form of a kaftan: a long, belted tunic that came to symbolise power and wealth during the Ottoman Empire. While the vividly coloured illustrations of lush vegetation, peacocks, hardy servants and magnificent palaces are reminiscent of imperial iconography, the fabrics are hardly opulent and the cluttered patchwork is at odds with the elegant design of Ottoman kaftans.

In the wake of the sudden disintegration of the Soviet Union, Karamustafa gathers the remains of another fallen empire in an informal visual archaeology where miniature portraits of sultans coexist with fragments from kitsch wall carpets and synthetic velvet and silk fabrics cheaply available on the streets of Istanbul.

On a monumental scale, Resimli Tarih pays tribute to popular culture’s cannibalisation of once hegemonic forms and symbols while also mourning the end of an era. – HV 139

Revista Urbânia 5 2014 Graziela Kunsch and Lilian L’Abbate Kelian The magazine Urbânia originated from a group project by Núcleo Performático Subterrânea, a collective in São Paulo that staged radical street performances in the early 2000s. From the third issue on, the magazine has been run by Graziela Kunsch. With each issue, Urbânia picks a specific focus of investigation, experimenting with different editorial strategies and assuming a new form.

The fifth issue of Urbânia is being constructed in the context of the 31st Bienal and features historian and educator Lilian L’Abbate Kelian as co-editor. Urbânia 5 includes texts and experiments surrounding educational projects that aim to reinvent schools, or counter-schools, practices of popular education, initiatives for decolonisation, recognition and spreading African-Brazilian or Native Brazilian history and culture, pieces by artists who possess a pedagogical (or even an ‘anti-pedagogical’) inclination; as well as educational actions in art exhibitions, among other themes.

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The editors propose an anti-hegemonic, critical and emancipatory approach to education, and the form of the magazine and its distribution aims to reflect this intention. The graphic design was created in collaboration with artist and designer Vitor Cesar.

Parallel to the development of the magazine, L’Abbate Kelian and Kunsch are coordinating a course in ‘Self-training for Educators’ along with a group of educators from the Bienal and members of the permanent team. The course anticipates experimental activities that will be developed with the public, and is structured according to five thematic axes: 1) Accumulated History (experiments in democratic education); 2) Movement (the limits and possibilities of public policies); 3) Utopia (an open architecture of spaces and curricula); 4) Body (presence, performance and an ethics of endearment); and 5) Vocabulary (new practices require new terminology).

The release of Urbânia 5 will take place during the last weeks of the 31st Bienal, allowing it to attempt an evaluation of the course, an observation of the activities of Bienal’s educational project, and a juxtaposition of other projects in the exhibition which relate to the interest of the editorial project such as those by Pedro G. Romero, Imogen Stidworthy and Mujeres Creando. – GK/LLK 141

The Revolution Must Be a School of Unfettered Thought 2014 Jakob Jakobsen and María Berríos

What is a revolutionary exhibition? Or what can a revolutionary exhibition be? A propaganda machine against the inadmissible present?

An investigation into the experimental language of revolution? Does it address change, force change, or is it change itself? In light of the recent uproar against the current crisis of global capitalism, the resurgence of ‘revolution’ as a concrete horizon gives these questions a different toll.

A revolutionary exhibition puts the continuous rubble of unfinished revolts to use. It is a struggle with the present, while the actuality of the present continues to be haunted by historical echoes.

The specific resonance we are exploring in The Revolution Must Be a School of Unfettered Thought is the exhibition Del Tercer Mundo [From the Third World], which took place in Pabellón Cuba in Havana in January 1968. It was one of the main public events of the Cultural Congress of Havana – a large-scale gathering that attempted to articulate a language for international struggle against imperialism 142

and towards the decolonisation and liberation of the global south.

The Congress aimed to work across disciplines and national borders, bringing together hundreds of artists, writers, gym teachers, poets, scientists, anti-psychiatrists, feminists, black power militants, dentists, economists, philosophers, students and activists from most of the world in an attempt to connect their struggles and revolutionary force.

As a pedagogical exhibition, Del Tercer Mundo strived to map and reflect on the contemporary immiseration of the world while also offering a dynamic portrayal of popular rebellion and resistance. It was a multimedia total installation, applying innovatory audio-visual technologies, creating an integrated and sensual narrative that included neon animations, comic strips, mechanical animated billboards, satirical film mashups, protest dioramas, sound effects and three live animals (a llama and two lions). The point was not to bring the museum to the people, but to use and transmute the language of the street into exhibition form.

A revolutionary exhibition requires a multilayered language that challenges language itself. It must be open to destructive collisions with the present and the on-going immiseration of the already dispossessed. We, as militant researchers, have learned there is a difficult transition from reflecting on to becoming a revolutionary exhibition. It is not enough to gather knowledges around a new subject, it is necessary to construct a new object that cannot belong to anyone. – JJ/MB 143

RURU 2000-ongoing ruangrupa ruangrupa is an artist’s initiative formed in Jakarta, Indonesia in 2000 that has grown in the last fourteen years to become one of the most significant small-scale institutions in South East Asia. Jakarta is a sprawling city, not unlike São Paulo, divided into a series of neighbourhoods characterised by diversity.

Working with the texture of the city, ruangrupa make use of the opportunities that emerge from existing cultural dynamics – responding to what goes on around them. This may mean promoting a band, curating an exhibition or developing an international network that can connect Jakarta’s artists to the wider world.

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The members of ruangrupa therefore work across many fields including music, education, video, community projects, festivals, architecture and their own artistic practices. For the 31st Bienal, they present a hybrid architectural/sculptural structure. This vertiginous environment presents the different activities of the group as reflected through the meetings and experiences they have had during their time in São Paulo. By connecting to diverse aspects of this city, they create a kind of trans-city portrait – one that projects São Paulo back onto itself through the eyes of Jakartan artists, in dialogue with how local initiatives understand the meaning of being a collective.

All the elements of ruangrupa’s activities found in this installation reflect their spontaneous, entangled yet always thoughtful ways of working. In this way, ruangrupa is able to remain firmly anchored within their local situation while developing a collective awareness of how art is changing across the world. It is this awareness of the possibilities of art today that the group wants to offer to the public of the 31st Bienal. – CE 145

Sem título 2014 Éder Oliveira As is his usual practice in the city where he resides – Belém, Pará – Éder Oliveira has created large-scale mural portrait paintings for the 31st Bienal. These portraits might be called monumental, if we use the term ‘monument’ to refer to something other than hegemonic events and characters in history. The artist makes monuments precisely out of those whom the social dynamic stigmatises: people suspected to be involved in crime and those whose images are plastered across the sensationalist pages in the police section of Pará newspapers.

Transposed onto Belém’s walls, and now those of São Paulo, these characters become widely visible, though still anonymous. Regardless of the details of their identities and the location where they were originally photographed – information which Oliveira omits – the murals elicit a reflection on the way civil rights are ignored, most evidently here in the realm of photojournalistic coverage.

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Ordinarily referred to as thugs or criminals by the press – often before they are convicted, if they are – most of the people portrayed here are caboclos: mixed-race descendents of African and Native Brazilians. This demographic fact denotes, in addition to the ethical problems of police coverage, the racism of the media when reporting on issues of violence and public safety in Brazil.

Now relocated to the Ciccillo Matarazzo Pavilion, at an upscale address in São Paulo, Éder Oliveira’s portraiture takes on new aspects. In this cosmopolitan, though extremely excluding metropolis, the caboclo from Pará personifies ‘the other’: he or she who does not fit with the dominant socioeconomic standards and, as such, lives on the geographic and civic margins of society, as do northeastern Brazilians, Haitians, Bolivians and so many others in São Paulo. Indirectly, the artist’s murals become centres where the attention of the public at the 31st Bienal might converge.

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Sergio e Simone 2007-2014 Virginia de Medeiros

Simone is a transvestite who takes care of a natural spring – Fonte da Misericórdia – as a shrine for the worship of the Afro-Brazilian orishas. Sergio is an evangelical preacher who sees himself sent by God ‘to save the human race’. Simone and Sergio, or Sergio and Simone, are one and the same person.

In 2006, Virginia de Medeiros met Simone, who was living in Ladeira da Montanha, one of the most run-down areas of the city of Salvador.

Interested in the region’s residents, Medeiros began documenting aspects of Simone’s day-to-day life in video. About a month after the initial footage was made, Simone suffered convulsions as a result of 148

her crack use, followed by a mystical delirium in which she found God. After this incident, in which she ‘died of an overdose’, Simone reclaimed the name Sergio, convinced of another religious mission alongside Jesus. Sergio then narrates for the camera the story of his transformation and his new identity.

Eight years later, in 2014, de Medeiros re-established contact with Sergio, who, during a brief relapse, became a pai-de-santo, a priest of the candomblé religion, creating his own house of worship, where he assumes both identities, Sergio and Simone. The collected images reflect the complexity of this constant process of physical and spiritual transformation against the backdrop of a unique city, in which the two religions remain in conflict and exchange, also suggesting the difficulty of configuring another existence within a binary society – in other words, one which, through discrimination, demands that we be one thing or another. – LP

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El shabono abandonado 1979 Juan Downey Between November 1976 and May 1977, Juan Downey lived with the Yanomami communities of Bishassi and Tayeri. As soon as he arrived in the territory of the Yanomami, Downey engrossed himself fully in the indigenous social structure of the shabono.

Literarily meaning a felling or clearing in the forest, a shabono is the elliptic or circular communal dwelling of the Yanomami, which is subdivided depending on the family structure of the members. The area in the centre of the shabono is the community’s shared space and the outside edge is a continuous structure made of tree trunks and branches with a huge single-pitch roof that covers the domestic domain, running round the space of social life, rituals and shamanic exercises. According to the anthropologist Jacques Lizot, the shabono is a microcosm where the cosmological, religious and social orders of the Yanomami converge. For Downey it is also a perfect instance of invisible, light, flexible, economic architecture – an architecture interdependent on natural forces, an organism with the powers of the universe that feeds nature while at once feeding off of it.

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Though it might seem as if Downey were following in the steps of ethnographic documentary by pioneers such as Jean Rouch – in other words, submerging himself in ‘the place of the events’, adopting the community’s customs and entering into dialogue with the ‘observed’ through a visioning of the recorded images – Downey’s engagement with the genre is tempered by a component of subjectivity that subverts its classic rules. He does not maintain a distance but rather involves himself in the observed action as an active part. Similarly to his series Video Trans Americas [see pp. 166-167], the approximation to the ‘other’ in El shabono abandonado [The Abandoned Shabono] involves a process of self-discovery, in this case in an even more extreme form, completely removed from his life and his family. For Downey, the artistic experience with the Yanomami is the document of a process and not the manipulation of passive materials, as is also borne out by the maps and drawings which are the result of his meditations in the forest. – NEM 151

Small World 2014 Yochai Avrahami What do a ghost train, a crime museum and a parading samba school have in common? For Yochai Avrahami, these elements present three ways of telling stories. What is of interest here aren’t the actual stories, but rather the devices developed to tell them, with a particular focus on atrocities – large-scale massacres, displacements of populations or natural disasters.

Avrahami studied memorials, museums and monuments that were created by public authorities or ordinary citizens in Israel and other parts of the world. These tell their versions of historical facts as if there were no other sides to the story. Using the most varied artifices, transforming narratives into spectacles and stories according to strict plot-lines, these devices are devices of power: those who know how to recount history take power and exert it. In Brazil, Yochai came across the reverse situation: those in power aren’t so interested in recounting history as they are in making sure that others do not know how to – perhaps because those who are capable to do so are involved with atrocities that they silence.

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Avrahami’s studies led him to Rio de Janeiro, Minas Gerais and São Paulo. Of the many possible places of memory, he visited the Slave Museum in the outskirts of Belo Horizonte, the excavations of the Valongo Docks in Rio, and the project for the São Paulo Penitentiary Museum on the site of the old Carandiru prison. From these encounters, Small World, Avrahami’s contribution to the 31st Bienal, aims to reflect on the absence or fragility of the devices that sustain narratives – national or local, official or unofficial – leaving room to perhaps invent different ways of telling stories. Through a monumental, funfair-like installation, the artist proposes a situation where there is no history: a museum for something that does not exist, a scam in which memory turns flexible in order to once again become emancipatory. – BS

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Spear and other works 1963-1965 Edward Krasiński Photography by Eustachy Kossakowski Edward Krasiński was both a maker of objects and an actor or performer for the community around him. For most of his life, he lived in Poland, and with his work he always responded to the situation around him – yet he exhibited internationally from the beginning of his career in the 1960s. In the Bienal there are photographs of the artist with his sculptures, and sculptural works from the early part of that decade. The photographs of his actions are very deliberately staged, even if they might seem casual. They show him as a gentle, irreverent figure who was playing with a supposed aristocratic heritage at a time in communist Poland when such actions were not politically welcomed.

All the photographs were taken by his friend and collaborator Eustachy Kossakowski, who was close to the Polish avant-garde scene of the time.

As an artist, Krasiński was always seeking to use play and performance as a way to escape the heaviness of his situation, whether in his engagement with art and its materiality, or in his relationship to the authorities. He was fascinated by the potential misuse of everyday objects and sought to transform them into magical configurations, giving them an almost mystical presence.

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His objects are some of the oldest artworks in the 31st Bienal. Their delicate, even precarious appearance is woven into the atmosphere of the room itself, with its dark walls and dramatic lighting modulating the simple materials into contemporary talismans. When shown in the mid-1960s for the first time, shortly after being made, they were seen as related to Surrealism, because of their absurdity and playfulness. Fifty years later, in a contemporary context, their apperance might suggest a different state of things, less art historical and more connected to social precarity. Krasiński always struggled against limits and control, and tried to find his own path in art, yet he did not retreat from the world. Through the transformation of conventional materials, he tried to conjure up a new popular imagination that still resonates today. – CE

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Those of Whom 2014 Sheela Gowda

Rubber and iron, thread, needles and pigment, incense and ash, cow dung, car bumpers and hair – everyday materials figure prominently in the sculptural practice of Sheela Gowda. In her hands these elements are woven together to create large-scale, three-dimensional compositions, with lines and colour that often envelop space or the viewer.

At times the lines meander, as in the woven ropes of hair or thread. At others they are rigid and cutting, as in the plumbing-pipes-cum-speakers constructed into a grid across the gallery, or the slender, tall limbs made of recycled furniture. On closer inspection, however, Gowda’s lines reveal themselves to be more than mere abstract forms: each of her installations is preoccupied with the qualities of specific materials as much as with the labours associated with them – the how, by and for whom they are handled and put to use.

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For the 31st Bienal, Gowda has played with the elasticity of natural rubber against the rigidity of reclaimed iron furniture and window grills, as if stretching a new skin over the extant skeletons. Both materials are also the product of resilient micro-economies referencing their own history and also linked to the economic and political history of the country. The extraction of latex from the rubber tree was the driver of Brazil’s booming economy in the late nineteenth century, with disastrous effects for both the Amazonian forest

and its indigenous populations. With the export of rubber tree seeds to South-Asia in the early 1900s and the commercialisation of synthetic rubber in the 1960s, however, rubber prices plummeted, forcing locals to turn to more profitable but often less environmentally safe activities. For Those of Whom, Gowda has worked with cooperatives of seringueiros – rubber tappers – from the state of Acre, in northwestern Brazil, whose harvesting contributes to prevent further deforestation of the Amazonia. Reclaimed from the urban jungle that is São Paulo, the iron structures are likewise gathered by companies that collect urban waste from demolition sites and put them back into circulation. – HV

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Turning a Blind Eye 2014 Bik Van der Pol A MISSING VOCABULARY writing & discussion sessions Islandkeeper: Moosje Goosen What does it mean to engage in ‘the missing’ and to acknowledge the unknown?

COMMONING TIMES Islandkeepers: Rene Gabri and Ayreen Anastas

This island is about living in a world in which the doing is separated from the deed, in which this separation is extended in an increasing numbers of spheres of life, in which the revolt about this separation becomes ubiquitous.

In collaboration with Casco Projects, Utrecht

BARBARIZING PUBLIC SPEECH Islandkeeper: Maria Boletsi

IN PROGRESS Islandkeepers: Gediminas and Nomeda Urbonas

Collective activities contributing to the crossdisciplinary exchange between several nodes of knowledge production: network and participatory technologies; sensorial media and public space; environmental remediation design and spatial organization; and alternative planning design integration.

Public rhetorical strategies and the ways they give a shape to (and restricts) public space.

FRAGMENTED CARTOGRAPHIES Islandkeeepr: Tina Sherwell Exploring the contemporary landscape of Palestine in particular urban environments.

The main question that runs through the thesis is what does it mean to situate one's work "in institution," while at the same time rubbing against official (and institutionalised) ways of knowing?

FREELAND Islandkeeper: Jeroen Zuidgeest

Communi(ci)ty’, the societal, cultural and moral issues of a boletsi radical liberation of planning.

THINK TANK AESTHETICS Islandkeeper: Pamela M. Lee

IT'S TIME MAN. IT FEELS IMMINENT: POLITICS AT THE MOMENT OF EXPOSITION Islandkeeper: Sarah Pierce

Turning a blind eye [or: ignoring an undesirable information] or I really do not see the signal

Interactions between forest and atmosphere, mapping and economics mutual learning as forms o exchange, lost knowledge and megaprojects in the Amazone displacement, participatory architecture, lost sights, los sites, walking tours, invisible rivers concrete jungle unseen and turned away participatory forms o staging

Think Tank Aesthetics reflects on art and its relations to current debates about the political and the social against the backdrop of neoliberalism.

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ABSTRACTION Islandkeeper: Maria Lind

t

Abstract Possible is a research project exploring notions of abstraction, taking contemporary art as its starting point.

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THE BORDERS ARE NO LONGER AT THE BORDER Islandkeeper: Ernst van den Hemel

“The borders of new sociopolitical entities (...) are no longer entirely situated at the outer limit of territories; they are dispersed a little everywhere, wherever the movement of information, people, and things is happening and is controlled” (Etienne Balibar).

DIVINE INTERVENTION Islandkeeper: Samira BenLaloua

Scenarios for an intervention as a response to tenderness in the daily life and a challenge to that what is near.

Oct 2013

Oct 2014

ACTION AND FRAGMENTATION

URBAN SPACES AND SPACE OF NATURE AS SITES OF CONFLICT

LANGUAGE AND RHETORIC

URBAN SPATIAL POLITICS THE COMMONS, PRIVATIZATION AND ACCESS

We may all be blind to what is in front of us; we might also be willfully blind. Turning a Blind Eye, a programme of public workshops, events, lectures and walks by Bik Van der Pol, explores different notions of the ‘unseen’ (the non-visible and the non-existent), and the ways in which we look at things or choose what we look at. The programme seeks to investigate the idea of ‘publicness’, as well as to generate a public for its own activities. A live, large scoreboard animated live by activators follows the developments of the projects and invites the publics to become participants.

Turning a Blind Eye understands artistic practice as a form of learning, and a space of experience and encounter. Art can be a strategy for emancipation and a potential response to public 158

issues. The recent occupations of public squares worldwide, or the increasing commercial exploitation of private information, demonstrate the urgency of public space as a site of conflict over rights, information, relations and objects.

Debates over forms of common property such as knowledge and culture show that public space is to be understood in the broadest terms possible – as that which holds the fabric of experience-ascommunity together. Yet it is threatened by exclusions, privileged access and disinformation to the point that it becomes invisible.

Public property needs to be re-articulated time and again, and is just as precarious as the natural environment, threatened by a predatory economy.

Turning a Blind Eye investigates recent events in Brazil and worldwide, departing from tensions around the exploitation of urban and natural space. The programme has been created with the participation of the general public, students of the School of Missing Studies and universities and organisations in São Paulo. The 31st Bienal acts as the site for the project’s creation and research, implementing the educational model of ‘the school’ as a form of mental theatre that may create new horizons of action, production and reflection. – BVDP 159

A última aventura 2011 Romy Pocztaruk The Trans-Amazonian Highway was created under Brazil’s latest military regime, during Emílio G. Médici government (1969-1974), to cut the northern half of Brazil’s territory from east to west and promote ‘national integration’. The construction of its 4,000 kilometres – stretching from Paraíba to Acre, all the way to the Peruvian border – represented a pharaonic undertaking at the time, one worthy of a growing nation: ‘the last great adventure of the century’, according to state propaganda. After a few years, the construction of various stretches of the highway was halted and, with the passage of time, the Trans-Amazonian Highway had become a site of unkept promises, long gaps and waits, the ruins of something that never came to be.

In 2011, Romy Pocztaruk spent a month travelling a large part of the highway to see what remained of the project and what had been born in the small towns in the vicinity of its absence. The trip aimed at an experience close to the conquering of a territory and imagery which, though symbols of nationalist identity, remain inaccessible and stigmatised to this day. The result is a study in 160

documentary photography, in which Pocztaruk and her possible subjects never appear in the scene, and which is instead dominated by registers of their places in transit and life. Though emptied according to photographic direction, the houses, parks and streets portrayed present a detailed human dimension of the environment and material culture.

Forty years late, the paving of some portions of the TransAmazonian Highway was resumed during the year of Pocztaruk’s trip, only again to be interrupted shortly after. Despite the infrastructure and the image of the highway as a monument to national progress, the project A última aventura [The Last Adventure] features arguments for reopening the debate on the methods of conducting and effecting social transformation – in this case, via the simulation of the possibility of transit, of a journey that began but hasn’t yet been concluded, neither for Pocztaruk nor for Brazil. – AMM 161

A última palavra é a penúltima – 2 2008/2014 Teatro da Vertigem

The pedestrian underpass of Rua Xavier de Toledo had been closed for more than fifteen years when Teatro da Vertigem first staged, in 2008, A última palavra é a penúltima [The Last Word Is the Penultimate One]: an intervention based on Gilles Deleuze’s text The Exhausted.

The underpass, located at the centre of São Paulo and connecting the Viaduto do Chá with the Praça Ramos de Azevedo, used to house multiple small shops, all offering their goods to paulistas and visitors.

By 2008, the shops were fronted by empty windows for non-existent passers-by: time capsules through which the effects of ruthless urban developments led by social inequality and class interests could be immediately felt.

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In their revision of the piece for the 31st Bienal, six years later, Teatro da Vertigem shows how little has changed and, at the same time, how new factors and forces may suggest a different future. In their interaction with the publics for which the underpass will again be accessible, the actors and video screens installed in the former shop windows aim to make visible what the city tries to hide, what it no longer wants to see: living conditions, the exhaustion that results from the hard labour which some of the city’s inhabitants engage in, as well as the individuals themselves who occupy its spaces.

Such a presentation of A última palavra é a penúltima allows us to reconsider these conditions at a time when the redistribution of visibility and social relations is taking place in the city of São Paulo and throughout Brazil, as an effect of contemporary strategies of social organisation, which perfectly echo Teatro da Vertigem’s collective and localised approach to writing, producing and performing. – PL

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Untitled 2014 Vivian Suter Since leaving Switzerland, in 1982, Vivian Suter’s work is closely bound up with the place where she has lived and worked since – Panajachel, Guatemala. Her studio at the Lake Atitlán was originally a coffee plantation, now overgrown with the avocado and mango trees that were first introduced to protect the coffee bushes. From the upper floor of the studio, Suter looks out over a subtropical landscape of lakes and volcanoes, whilst downstairs the views of dense vegetation turn her experience inwards. It is this environment, with its expressive fertility, that shapes her paintings. The images Suter produces are not realistic illustrations of the land, but partly abstract contemplations of an almost mystical relationship between the human and natural elements that are constantly at play there.

Often, Suter leaves her works out in the open, where they are changed by the sun, wind, rain and mud. At least two times, following the hurricanes Stan (2005) and Agatha (2010) that ravaged Guatemala, the studio was flooded and the canvases marked by the height of the water and mud. All these events are present in the final paintings in ways that make them become diaries of their own making.

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This recording of process also shapes the way the works are shown in public, often without stretchers or hung from wooden racks like laundry. The acceptance of the often destructive forces of nature as part of everyday life, reflects a philosophical approach that seeks to live with what happens, rather than to determine what must be. In this sense, Suter reaches an equilibrium in her paintings that is very far from the old modern idea of viewing art as a means of shaping nature and society. In her work, things are what they are, in a way that suggests a faith in forces beyond her understanding; or a balance that recalls older

belief systems and their respect for the natural world and humanity’s place within it. – CE

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Video Trans Americas 1973-1979 Juan Downey The idea for Video Trans Americas struck Downey as a kind of epiphany in New York. As a result, he went in search of his roots, after having lived and worked for almost ten years in Spain, France and the USA. Downey’s initial intention was to make a video-expedition from Toronto to Tierra del Fuego, recording with his video camera the different cultures that share the space of the American continent, very often without any relationship with each other and at other times in open conflict.

The working programme included the recording of different urban and jungle communities and afterwards projecting the footage made in the very same communities as well as other contexts across the continent.

Finally, a single work was edited exploring the interactions of time, space and context.

At the end of the 1960s, Juan Downey started to take an interest in technology as a decisive factor for renewal that would prompt radical social and economic changes, as well as a utopian and liberating tool that could also broker a reconciliation between nature and progress.

Using a broad sampling of media, he focussed his practice on ways of translating the invisible elements of energy transmission into visible forms.

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In 1973, after experimenting with energies in sculptures and happenings, and coextensively with his research into invisible architecture understood as an information system, Downey pinpointed video as the ideal tool for putting his ideas into practice. Its potential for feedback and reflectivity – video as a medium in which the artist is both reflected and projected in society – was perfect not only for expressing the ideas on space and time he was concerned with, but also to give shape to Video Trans Americas, the most ambitious project he had undertaken until that moment.

Downey continued in his work with the Yanomami community in Venezuela, which gave rise to pieces like El shabono abandonado [The Abandoned Shabono] (1978), (pp. 150-151), and El caimán con la risa de fuego [The Laughing Alligator] (1979). – NEM

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Vila Maria 2014 Danica Dakić in collaboration with Roger Avanzi, the performers of the Unidos de Vila Maria Samba School and the photographer Egbert Trogemann

Danica Dakić often starts to work with an encounter or an image that she follows as a path. She then keeps the process open, allowing participants to improvise, directing them in a subtle way. A migrant herself, she has created theatrical dispositives to work in collaboration with non-actors, as refugees and nomads. Her filmic narrative is then built in the editing room.

From the film set to the editing room, displacement and transformation are central to her work.

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When Dakić met Roger Avanzi, the last representative of a five-generations-old circus family, it was clear to her that he would be the character of her next work. In Vila Maria, Dakić films him putting on his makeup and turning into Picolino the clown, and by doing so she confronts the viewer with a concrete situation of transformation. Nerino Avanzi, founder of the Circus Nerino (1913-1964), created Picolino, and his son, Roger, inherited the character. Picolino is inseparable from Roger’s body, although it exists beyond him.

Picolino was also part of Vila Maria Samba School’s 2014 carnival parade. Dakić filmed Roger in the Circus Museum that he helped to create in São Paulo to preserve Picolino’s memory and the memory of Brazilian circus. In another time and space, in the samba school’s warehouse, eight Picolinos, of all heights and ages, stand still in front of Dakić’s camera. They give new incarnations to the character and, in exchange, Picolino gives them a new mask and new roles to play within a poetic call for transformation.

– bs/ge

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Violencia 1973-1977 Juan Carlos Romero

Similarly to other artists from his generation, like Edgardo Antonio Vigo and León Ferrari, Juan Carlos Romero conceived his practice – since his beginnings in the 1920s – as the totality of all his actions and interventions in public life, whether or not they could be classified conventionally as ‘artistic’. And so, apart from his output in postal art, visual poetry, performance, graphics, painting and etching, Romero also prioritised his writing, publishing, curatorship, teaching, activism and the creation of an archive on art and politics. Romero has always been an experimental artist and a defender of collective practices capable of generating their own spaces of circulation, both inside and outside conventional channels.

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Violencia [Violence] is an installation, originally created in 1973, at a time of profound institutional, ideological and social crisis in Argentina. During this period the country was under military rule and, with the ex-president Perón about to return after a long exile, debates raged on the formation of a popular national government, the profile of a New Left and the need for armed struggle.

Violencia summarises all these issues and condenses virtually all the artist’s fields of activity: the result of an archiving project focussed on the way in which the press presented the conflicts of the time; a militant intervention that called for, in terms akin to Frantz Fanon and Jean-Paul Sartre, a response to oppressive violence with liberating violence; a holistic conception of the exhibition space and its relationship with the space of the street; an acceptance of the role of the spectator as a necessary agent for social change; and a graphic and conceptual experiment.

In short, an overarching idea of art as research, intervention and awareness – core elements of Latin American Conceptualism in the 1960s and 70s. – SGN 171

Voto! 2012-ongoing Ana Lira In the months of political campaigns, electoral marketing teams construct the candidates’ images in order to win over the public’s empathy and thus its votes. After election day, what is left is printed portraits on posters and pamphlets posted on walls and scattered on sidewalks in many cities. After the 2012 mayoral election in Recife, Ana Lira started documenting these obsolete campaign materials, abandoned by candidates and appropriated by the population through anonymous interventions.

Aided by the passage of time, which whitens the colours and erodes the eloquence of the slogans, acts of ripping parts of the advertisements and covering them with writing and stickers created a layer of critical information. This allowed the citizens’ point of view to shine through and, at least symbolically, stimulated their engagement in the face of a profound crisis of political representation in Brazil and the world at large.

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Though initially focussing on the two rounds of Recife’s municipal elections, Ana Lira’s photographyc archive has proceeded, developing into a broad survey that includes older posters and information evincing a cartography of the city, from which the relationships between locales and certain types of intervention can be inferred. During her outings for this study, Lira noticed that most of the posters are found either in the downtown area or neighbourhoods in the outer city limits, with only a weak presence in more upscale areas. This contextual thought aside, the result of the study blots out the settings of the photos, presenting them as metaphors for the breakdown of political methods that also takes place in other regions.

A member of the project Cidades Visuais [Visual Cities] and the Direitos Urbanos [Urban Rights] movement, created in 2012 to address Recife’s urban problems, Lira often provides documentary coverage of her generation’s political activism, both from the inside and out. The images for the project Voto! [Vote!] originated from her work on the documentary film Eleições: crise de representação [Elections: Crisis of Representation], and later took on a life of their own as a photographic series, mobilised by the incessant production of official political portraits. – AMM 173

Wall, Work, Workshop.

The São Paulo Drawing 2014 Dan Perjovschi

Just as characters are reduced to schematic lines, seemingly complex ideas find a simplified form in Dan Perjovschi’s drawings. Lacking the rhetorical or visual flourishes that often adorn political and artistic representations, his cartoons humorously unmask the hypocrisy that pervades all aspects of human interaction – from geo-politics to everyday life. Like the daily news, these drawings demand to be circulated rather than preserved in museum vaults. Although Perjovschi has become known for his ephemeral, large-scale installations, his work is also performed live and distributed via artist’s books, free newspapers and the Romanian magazine Revista 22, to which he has contributed weekly since 1991.

Perjovschi’s disavowal of traditional art forms is rooted in his experience of Romanian art academia in the 1970s and 80s. Frustrated by the constraints of official art, which, like the country, was then under the tight grip of Nicolae Ceauşescu’s regime, Perjovschi adopted drawing 174

as a means of channelling social and political critique. Grids of sketched portraits hinting at the surveillance state began to populate his work in the late 1980s, culminating in the 5,000-ink-and-watercolour-drawing-wall Antropotheque (1992). Since then, he has given up on colour and draws directly on gallery walls, floors and windows. Using iconic images and few words, his sketches give an apparently transparent visual form to social and political taboos.

In recent years, Perjovschi’s accessible and direct language has earned him invitations to international biennials and museums alike. Such exposure has brought him close to some of the processes he critiques, such as the Westernisation that has followed the fall of communism, the art system’s exploitation of exotic identities, or the footprint of globetrotting lifestyles. Perjovschi critically addresses these contradictions in his drawings, for example by contrasting his ability to travel across the globe with the hindered mobility of migrant workers. In so doing, he complicates the relationship between the critical, international artist that he has come to embody with the neoliberal order that he endeavours to exorcise. – HV 175

Wonderland 2013 Halİl AltIndere

Over the past two decades, Halil Altındere’s work has collided time and again with the rapidly changing political and social reality of Turkey. In a project made for the 5th Istanbul Biennial in 1997, he dubbed this troubled relationship to his homeland with Dance with Taboos, which consisted of large-scale reproductions of his identity card were displayed one after the other, the artist’s face becoming increasingly hidden in each photograph. Elsewhere, an identity card depicting the artist with his head in his hands was shown next to a blown-up banknote featuring Turkey’s first president, Kemal Atatürk, apparently mimicking Altındere’s shameful gesture – and thus joining the artist in rejecting a national identity premised upon the annihilation of his own culture and ethnicity as a Kurd.

At the latest Istanbul Biennial in 2013, the game of hide-andseek hinted at in this early work quite literally materialises in the images of Romani teenagers running from the police in Wonderland, a video that can also be seen in this 31st Bienal.

Featuring the local hip-hop group Tahribad-ı İsyan, this work adopts the visual language of rap music videos to furiously denounce the destruction of centuries-old Romani settlements in Sulukule, central Istanbul, to make way for high-end 176

developments. If Dance with Taboos put the Kurdish question in the spotlight at a time when the Turkish state was wiping out village after village in the southeast of the country, here Altındere has captured the unrest caused by Istanbul’s rampant gentrification – a feeling of discontent that would gain momentum in the Gezi Park protests of spring 2013.

Bookended by these two bold gestures of political dissent, Altındere’s practice can be seen as an investigation of both forms of government – as sanctioned by the state, the art system or social mores – and vernacular languages of resistance to that very exercise of power. His artistic strategies are rather tongue-in-cheek: always caustic and irreverent, his conceptual irony is exemplified by his adaptation of Emma Goldman’s famous dictum with If I can’t dance it’s not my revolution (2010), which he moulded into a gold necklace in the style of a fashionable trinket, thereby turning a marker of normative identity into a statement of defiance. – HV 177

Ymá Nhandehetama 2009 Armando Queiroz, Almires Martins and Marcelo Rodrigues Almires Martins is Guarani. He was once a fieldworker and a sugar cane cutter at sugar and alcohol factories. Martins also worked for the Curro Velho Foundation and the Secretary of the Environment (SEMA) in Belém, where he met Armando Queiroz, who was conducting a study on historical stigmas in the context of the Amazon. Their meeting resulted in the video Ymá Nhandehetama, which is Guarani for ‘in the past we were many’. The production of the video also featured the participation of Marcelo Rodrigues as director of photography.

In the face of so many stereotypes, oral history – as practised in the meeting between Almires Martins and Armando Queiroz – appears as a path by which individual testimony conjures collective memory. More than this, speech, as far as it expresses subjectivity, critical perspective and autonomy, empowers and legitimises itself and the narrator, making mediations unnecessary.

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The political action which takes place in Ymá Nhandehetama is a reflection of Armando Queiroz’s efforts as an artist, curator, professor, writer and director of Casa das Onze Janelas, a cultural and contemporary arts space in Belém. All of these activities are today characterised by a reflection of the Amazon as a terrain for geographic, economic and identity-based disputes. In his activism, Queiroz often employs readings and workshops as work strategies, in which he and the participants inevitably share power and responsibility in a collective agenda. In this sense, negation is an essential strategy. As Queiroz writes in the text ‘The Amazon is not mine!’: ‘The Amazon is not yours. The Amazon is not. [...] The Amazon is not real. The Amazon is not naïve and peaceful. [...] The Amazon is not.’ – AMM

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Zona de tensão anos 1980 Hudinilson Jr. Organised by Marcio Harum Strongly influenced by the scale of the city, some of the works by Hudinilson Jr. (1957–2013) in Zona de tensão [Tension Zone] are in line with original projects found in the artist’s personal archives, confirming his interest in the use of the billboard not only as a means of mass communication and urban furnishings from the era before the ‘Lei Cidade Limpa’ – a law passed in 2007 prohibiting advertisements on public spaces in the city of São Paulo – but essentially as an installation object.

The collage – displayed here in large dimensions according to the detailed assembly plans found in his studio/home, composes an immense landscape comprised of the skin and hair of a fragmented body: a body that is no longer individual, no longer masculine or feminine, as the result of an exercise which transforms it by exploring the possibilities of a Xerox machine.

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As if he were nearsighted, Hudinilson Jr. often tried his hand at simple graphic resources in the production of his work, through obsessively amplified photocopies of A3 and A4 formats. These include the presence of chequered structures, printed on notebook paper or meticulously constructed by his own design and cut-andpaste techniques.

During a lengthy period, the recurring figure of this grid stands out in self-portraits and images of naked men, guiding us to an understanding of the political, social, moral and physical restraints to which homoerotic desire and queer artistic thought were subjected to during the years of military dictatorship and the outbreak of AIDS. – MH

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Architecture For the 31st Bienal, the Ciccillo Matarazzo Pavilion has been divided into distinct architectural areas: Park, Ramp and Columns. These parts separate and connect the whole in a way that is intended to articulate the total experience of the 31st Bienal for its visitors.

The architectural process began with two presuppositions: firstly, the building is simply too big, and needed to be articulated in order to construct a coherent basis for the exhibition. Secondly, the Bienal required a rich and flexible ground into which artistic projects in the making could be embedded. The two objectives resulted in the creation of three complementary architectural base layers.

Given that the curatorial, artistic and architectural development of the 31st Bienal happened concurrently, the initial absence of artworks encouraged a series of studies exploring the Bienal de São Paulo’s architectural history and the building’s relationship to the park and the city. At the same time, a thorough analysis was made of the dimensions, depths, circulation, orientation and condition of light and darkness inside Oscar Niemeyer’s pavilion. Using these studies, the original interior space was divided by a central ‘valve’ that cuts the building vertically and serves to regulate the newly constructed divisions and mark their thresholds.

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Columns Area Ramp Area

Park Area

On the ground floor, the Park area exploits the existing transparency and its location between the park and the art exhibition to shape a place for social interaction.

Its many entrances have been kept open as an invitation to engage with the 31st Bienal before choosing to go into the exhibition itself. The wooden Plataforma is designed to host spontaneous and organised communities engaged in various gatherings, conversations, lectures or performances. Elsewhere in the Park there are places for workshops and other educational activities, while carpeted ‘puddles’ can be used as informal gathering and discussion points. The design of the area is also intended to welcome and provide a comfortable entrance zone for nearly a quarter of a million students.

To the northeast of the Park area, the three floors of the Ramp area crystallised around the impressive void and concentric ramp. Reminiscent of an eighteenth-century opera house, this place is identifiable as the location for a singular vertical event, with encounters that are constantly in dialogue and echo across from one work to another. The 183

exhibition in the Ramp area was conceived with the idea of simultaneity: through sound and vision, the three floors are experienced at one time. Walking up the Ramp becomes a process of unfolding attention to artworks that are vaguely present in one’s consciousness from the start. The point of view that the visitor occupies is therefore the (everchanging) centre of ­­perception.

A sketch of the Park area and the wooden Plataforma.

Lastly, stretching for more than 120 metres at the southwestern end of the second floor is the Columns area: an enormous, deep space where a grid of columns stands out. This area confronts the visitor with a different experience of engagement. By moving from the exposed face of the building’s façade into the dark heart of the enclosed space, the visitor comes across twenty-nine individual cells and niches. Each one is an invitation to discover artworks that sometimes leads to further rooms and new discoveries. It is also a journey between light and dark (natural and projected), where each visitor is likely to find a different path and hence a singular experience.

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Education Education as a way to understand every relationship – this perspective is at the core of the 31st Bienal. Because of that, there is not a time for education, a time that might come before or after the selection, production or installation of art in an exhibition space. Every moment needs to be one of learning for all those involved: for the artists or participants, invited to develop projects together or in groups, always in collaboration with many, including the Bienal’s permanent and temporary teams; for the curators, obliged to understand every conversation and exchange as exceptional, which means that applying ready-made formulas cannot be an option; for the Bienal and all its staff, driven into new processes and new people, often without choice; for the participants in each of the artistic projects and the visitors themselves, exposed to experiences of seeing, talking, dancing, eating, moving, in ways that should, on every occasion, bring something unexpected.

Education started at the very beginning of the process, with the Bienal’s education team engaged in the initial stages of researching the artists’ projects, creating a relationship that has continued throughout the build-up to the exhibition, and that has resulted in a mediation in which the works and events are the occasion for an exchange that should be radically open, undecided from the start. Education also started with as series of ‘open meetings’, in which diverse groups of people were convoked in cities such as Belém, Belo Horizonte, Fortaleza, Bogotá, Lima, Porto Alegre, Recife, Salvador, 185

Santiago, São Carlos, São Paulo or Sorocaba to discuss local urgencies and perspectives. Also in the workshop A Toolbox for Cultural Organisation, for which sixteen young artists, curators, writers and educators have and will be gathering for three weeks in January, May and October 2014, to think together how to intervene in and through culture in different times and places.

There is also no single space for education that is set apart from those of working, contemplating, resting, even eating.

Education must happen everywhere: at the restaurant/ café, where those who cook learn, and where those who eat learn from those who cook; in the exhibition spaces, where interactions between images, objects and people, including visitors and educators, propose new questions and formulations; in the ateliers or the streets where these images and objects are made; at workshops, such as those at the Favela do Moinho (p. 191), where acts of collaborative learning aim to result in a permanent transformation; or at the ‘open meetings’, which are possible only in collaboration with local institutions both small and large.

Education, finally, takes place in intimate and large scale; from one-to-one exchanges to group visits; from saraus, in which culture is made by anyone, to conferences, in which knowledge is shared to all those present. These moments occur with the same intended effect: the transformation of all those who come into contact with the 31st Bienal into something that they were not before.

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públicos

recursos

financeiros / materiais / imateriais / humanos

vídeo mapeamento

redes sociais

site

pesquisa

tornar visível

olhar

relatório

foto

newsletter

pontos de vista

experiência

provocar

material educativo extra muros

deslocar

sensibilização

planejar

RELAÇÃO

encontrar

reflexão

construir redes

escutar comunidades

itinerâncias

diálogos

avaliação laboratório

responder socialmente

trocar seminário

continuar acompanhamento alinhamento

poder público / privado

parcerias

fazer acontecer

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Visual identity Developed together with the design team at Fundação Bienal de São Paulo, the 31st Bienal’s visual identity is based on a commissioned drawing and a typographic frame.

The process for developing this identity was intensified through a work of exchange and analysis of images.

Gradually a set of images stood out: spirals and knots reappeared over and over as well as other intricate forms including organic figures emerging from pre-modern societies. Needing a further step and something tailor-made for developing these ideas, the team invited Prabhakar Pachpute to compose an image. The resulting drawing looks like an impossible conglomeration of bodies inside a Tower of Babel structure. The fantastical aspect of this figure, which also recalls a many-legged organism, depicts an imagined collectivity and the mental and physical transformation crucial to the curatorial approach of this Bienal.

Being mobile, it stresses the urge to come together and walk in common towards an uncertain destination.

In the poster, the drawn image is framed by a calligraphic type that suggests handmade manufacture.

This sets the tone for an intimacy in the relations between art, mediation and audiences that we are aiming for in the 31st Bienal. It uses a typeface based 188

on the work of English calligrapher Julian Waters and other applications adopt Arrus typeface, by Richard Lipton. The overall composition follows the canvas limits as guidelines, its awkwardness affirming the central role of typography in the visual identification.

Within this composition, colour appears punctually, highlighting some words according to the communication needs.

189

Programme in time The 31st Bienal, besides its programme in space (the exhibition), also includes a Programme in Time: a series of performances, workshops, screenings, public meetings, discussions and conferences that takes place throughout the duration the exhibition and that attempts different modes of constructing relations to audiences, from the festive to the discursive.

The programme addresses three key issues, based on what we perceive as current social, political, cultural and artistic urgencies: Art and Uses.

Through a series of workshops, discussions and lectures, Art and Uses considers artistic practice through its possibilities of action. It is divided into two sessions: the first one, on 13 September and co-organised with Stephen Wright, looks at theories of usership and specific artists’ projects. The second is held on 11 October and examines art agencies and institutions’ ability to function as platforms for critical thinking, as well as catalysers of change.

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Right to the City.

Co-organised together with Raquel Rolnik and Zeyno Pekunlu, Right to the City will involve artists, activists, sociologists and others also in two sessions. The first session, on 26–28 September, reflects on the neoliberal city and issues of housing policy, mega urban projects and resistance. The second, on 22–23 November, looks at police violence in the city, the failure of the representational model in democracy, the criminalisation of minorities and activists and the ‘favela syndrome’.

Trans- (Religion/Gender).

Held on 8–9 November, Trans- explores the recent changes in religious worship and personal identity, the relation between mysticism and ideology, and the inconsistencies of binary thinking in terms of body, gender, religion and other apparent absolutes.

These three events will happen in parallel to a series of saraus, or performative gatherings, that will take place in the Park area of the Ciccillo Matarazzo Pavilion fortnightly on Wednesday evenings and every Sunday afternoon. Organised by the Agência Solano Trindade, these events will bring together artists and cultural groups acting in the periphery of São Paulo, presenting the breadth of artistic expression in the city and country. These events will be accompanied by a project developed in collaboration with Comboio and the Moinho Vivo movement a series of workshops and a sarau taking place at the Favela do Moinho, in the centre of São Paulo, also during the Bienal.

This programme is subject to alterations. For up-to-date information, please consult the website: 31bienal.org.br.

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IMAGE Captions 30

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32‑33

34

35

36

192

Alejandra Riera with UEINZZ Cinéma abandonné. [Abandoned Cinema]. Digital photography.

Image: Unknown author.

Estátua de Cristóvão Colombo é retirada do Parque Colón, em frente a Casa Rosada, Buenos Aires. 2014. [Christopher Columbus Statue Is Removed from Parque Colón, in Front of the Casa Rosada, Buenos Aires]. Digital photography.

Image: Unknown author.

Asger Jorn 10.000 års nordisk folkekunst.

1961‑1965. [10,000 Years of Nordic Folk Art]. Black-andwhite photography (contact sheets). Variable dimensions.

Courtesy: Museum Jorn, Silkeborg.

Image: Gérard Franceschi.

Tiago Borges and Yonamine AfroUFO – projeto. 2014.

[AfroUFO – Project]. Drawing.

Image: Yonamine and Tiago Borges. neoblanc. 2014. Serigraphy.

21 × 30 cm. Image: Yonamine and Tiago Borges.

Asier Mendizabal España, aparta de mí este cáliz, Estela funeraria homenaje a César Vallejo, by Jorge Oteiza. 1958.

[Spain, Take This Cup of Suffering Away from Me, Tombstone homage to César Vallejo]. Metal sculpture. Dimensions unknown.

Location of the piece unkown.

Courtesy: Fundación Museo Jorge Oteiza, Alzuza. Image: Archivo Fundación Museo Jorge Oteiza, Alzuza.

36

37

38

39

40‑41

42

43

Homenaje a César Vallejo, by Jorge Oteiza. 1960. [Homage to César Vallejo]. Metal sculpture.

Image: Tatiana Guerrero.

Agoramaquia (el caso exacto de la estatua). 2014. [Agoramaquia (The Exact Case of the Statue)]. White masking on digital photograph.

Dimensions variable. Image: Asier Mendizabal.

Val del Omar Aguaespejo granadino. 1953‑1955.

[Water-Mirror of Granada].

35 mm film, BN, Dolby SR. 23′.

Courtesy: Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia, Madrid. Donación del Archivo María José Val del Omar and Gonzalo Sáenz de Buruaga, 2011. Image: Val del Omar.

Fuego en Castilla. 1958‑1960. [Fire in Castile]. 35 mm film, black and white, colour. 17′. Courtesy: Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia, Madrid. Donación del Archivo María José Val del Omar and Gonzalo Sáenz de Buruaga, 2011. Image: Val del Omar.

Clara Ianni and Débora Maria da Silva Apelo. 2014. [Plea]. Study for film.

Image: Clara Ianni.

El Hadji Sy Archéologie marine (croquis).

2014. [Marine Archaeology (sketch)]. Graphite and string on paper. 60 × 42 cm. Image: Pedro Ivo Trasferetti / Fundação Bienal de São Paulo.

Archéologie marine (production).

2014. [Marine Archaeology (in production)]. Fishing net, Brazilian coffe bags, sisal, canvas, strings,

paint and glue. 16 × 5 m. Image: Pedro Ivo Trasferetti / Fundação Bienal de São Paulo.

44 45

46

47

48

Lázaro Saavedra Karl Marx. 1992. Collage.

Image: Lázaro Saavedra.

Programa Cubano v.2.0. 2012.

[Cuban Programme v.2.0].

Flowchart. Dimensions variable.

Image: Lázaro Saavedra.

Imogen Stidworthy Voix Manquée (lines from 2nd page) from L’Arachnéen. 1982.

[Missing Voice (Lines from 2nd page) from L’Arachnéen].

Notes on printed text on paper.

Image: Fernand Deligny.

Gisèle Durand with map; production still from Balayer – A Map of Sweeping. 2014. HD Video projected on 2 floor-based wooden screens; 6-channel Ambisonic sound on Genelec loudspeakers; 1 Panphonics focusing audio element; textile; 5 stools. 15′. SD video footage courtesy of Jacques Lin, filmed at La Magnanerie, Graniers, Monoblet (France) between 2000 and 2008.

With the voices of Dominique Hurth, Jacques Lin and Suely Rolnik; Audio mixing: Stefan Kazassoglou; Video post-production: Martin Wallace; Special thanks to Sandra Álvarez de Toledo for generously sharing her thoughts and her knowledge, and for her extensive support. Image: Imogen Stidworthy.

Nilbar Güreş Webcam-Sex; Queer Solo.

2011‑2012. (Series: Black Series).

Mixed media. 72 × 78 cm.

Courtesy: Nilbar Güreş, Rampa Istanbul and Galerie Martin Janda, Vienna. Image: Nilbar Güreş.

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50‑51

52

53

53

54

54

55

56‑57

Overhead. 2010. (Series: TrabZONE. 2010). C-print photograph.

150 × 100 cm. Courtesy: Nilbar Güreş, Rampa Istanbul and Galerie Martin Janda, Vienna. Image: Nilbar Güreş.

Leigh Orpaz Breakfast. 2014. DV Pal video shot with thermal camera. 2′29″.

Image: Leigh Orpaz.

Wilhelm Sasnal Capitol. 2009. Oil on canvas.

160 × 200 cm. Courtesy: Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw.

Image: Marek Gardulski.

Untitled. 2013. Oil on canvas.

160 × 200 cm. Courtesy: Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw.

Image: Paul McAree.

Untitled (Mine). 2009. Oil on canvas.

220 × 200 cm. Courtesy: Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw.

Image: Marek Gardulski.

Arthur Scovino Caboclo Borboleta (O Caboclo dos Aflitos). 2014. [Butterfly Caboclo (The Caboclo of the Aflitos)].

Drawing (study for project).

21 × 30 cm. Image: Arthur Scovino.

Caboclo Samambaia. 2013.

[Bracken Caboclo]. Drawing, inkjet print, monotype and typewriting.

21 × 30 cm. Image: Arthur Scovino.

Caboclo Borboleta (O Caboclo dos Aflitos). 2013. [Butterfly Caboclo (The Caboclo of the Aflitos)]. Digital photography. Dimensions variable.

Image: Arthur Scovino.

Danica Dakić Céu. 2014. Single-channel video projection, colour, sound. 10′53″.

Image: Danica Dakić.

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59

60‑61

62

62

63

64

65

66

194

Anna Boghiguian Cities by the River. 2014. Mixed media on paper. 29.5 × 42 cm.

Image: Anna Boghiguian.

Women in Kalighat Red Light District behind Mother Teresa.

2014. Guache on watercolour paper.

33 × 43 cm. Image: Anna Boghiguian.

Nurit Sharett Counting the Stars. 2014. Stills from 3-channel HD video. 1h.

Support: Rabinovich Foundation and Mifal Hapais. Image: Nurit Sharett.

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68

69

Prabhakar Pachpute Back to the Farm II. 2013‑2014.

Charcoal on wall and stop-motion video. Image: Prabhakar Pachpute.

Back to the Farm I. 2013‑2014.

Charcoal on wall and stop-motion video. Image: Prabhakar Pachpute.

Dust Bowl in Our Hand. 2013‑2014.

Charcoal on wall and stop-motion video. Image: Prabhakar Pachpute.

Yeguas del Apocalipsis (Pedro Lemebel – Francisco Casas) Las dos Fridas. 1989/2014.

[The Two Fridas]. Photography.

120 × 135 cm. Image: Pedro Marinello.

Sergio Zevallos Martirios. 1983. [Martyrdoms].

(Series: Suburbios. 1983. [Suburbs]).

Silver photograph on fiber-based paper. 60 × 38.5 cm. Courtesy: Galería 80m² Livia Benavides, Lima.

Image: Sergio Zevallos.

Ocaña Inmaculada de las pollas. 1976.

[Immaculate of the Cocks].

Mix media on paper. 50 × 60 cm.

Courtesy: Colección Nazario Luque Vera, Barcelona. Image: Ocaña.

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72‑73

74‑75

Nahum Zenil Gracias Virgencita de Guadalupe.

1984. [Thanks to the Little Virgin of Guadalupe]. Mixed media.

46 × 31 cm. Image: Nahum Zenil.

León Ferrari Palabras ajenas (capa). 1967.

[Words of Others (cover)]. Book.

Image: Fundación Augusto y León Ferrari, Buenos Aires.

Etcétera…

Infierno financiero. 2014. [Financial Hell]. (Series: Errar de Dios. [Erring from God]). Collage: participatory installation. Dimensions variable.

Courtesy: Etcétera… Errar de Dios, a project by Etcétera… Texts: Franco Berardi ‘Bifo’, Loreto Garín Guzmán, Federico Zukerfeld. Architecture: Antoine Silvestre. Graphic design: Hernán Cardinale. Technological development: UNTREF. Special thanks: Fundación Augusto y León Ferrari. Image: BOVESPA and Cristo no Limbo, of Hieronymus Boch.

Archivo F.X. / Pedro G. Romero La Escuela Moderna. 2014. [The Modern School]. Installation, photographs. Image: Archivo F.X. Mujeres Creando Útero ilegal. 2014. [Illegal Uterus]. (Series: 13 horas de rebelión. [13 Hours of Rebellion]).

Sculpture and video installation.

9′6″. Courtesy: Mujeres Creando.

Image: María Galindo.

Chto Delat The Excluded. In a moment of danger. Animation. Duration not yet confirmed. Co-produced with Secession, Vienna. Image: Chto Delat.

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78‑79

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80

81

82

83

Kasper Akhøj and Tamar Guimarães A família do Capitão Gervásio.

2013. [Captain Gervásio’s Family].

16 mm film loop, concrete structures. 14′. Courtesy: The artists, Galeria Fortes Vilaça, São Paulo; Ellen De Bruijne Projects, Amsterdam. Acknowledgments: Danish Art Foundation, the medium Vânia Arantes Damo, Centro Espírita Luz da Verdade, its mediums and patients. Image: Tamar Guimarães and Kasper Akhøj.

Yuri Firmeza A fortaleza. 2010. [The Fortress].

Photography. 150 x 110 cm.

Image: Yuri Firmeza.

Nada é. 2014. [Nothing Is]. Film.

Duration not yet confirmed.

Image: Yuri Firmeza.

Teresa Lanceta Handira IV. 1997. (Series: Handira).

Wool and cotton fabric. 168 × 97 cm.

Image: Teresa Lanceta.

Granada Blanca. 2002. [White Granada]. Wool and cotton fabric.

195 × 134 cm. Image: Teresa Lanceta.

Bert Flint V. 1997‑1998. (Series: BertFlint.). Wool and cotton fabric.

230 × 110 cm. Image: Teresa Lanceta.

Voluspa Jarpa Minimal Secret. 2011. Laser cut carton. 80 × 40 cm. Private Collection.

Image: Voluspa Jarpa.

No-History’s Library. 2012. Print book instalation. Dimensions variable. Collection: Voluspa Jarpa.

Image: Voluspa Jarpa.

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86

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Johanna Calle Contables. 2008. [Countable].

(Series: Imponderables.

2008‑2009). Wire mesh and copper on cardboard. 39 × 35 cm.

Image: Johanna Calle.

Nogal. 2012. [Walnut].

(Series: Perímetros. 2012‑2014.

[Perimeters]). Typed text on antique legal ledger. 320 × 412 cm.

Collection: Marilia Razuk.

Courtesy: Johanna Calle and Marilia Razuk Gallery, São Paulo.

Image: Johanna Calle.

Jo Baer In the Land of Giants (Spiral and Stars). 2013. (Series: In the Land of Giants.). Oil on canvas. 155 × 155 cm.

Courtesy: Galerie Barbara Thumm, Berlin. Image: Jo Baer.

Royal Families (Curves, Points and Little Ones). 2013. (Series: In the Land of Giants.). Oil on canvas.

155 × 155 cm. Courtesy: Galerie Barbara Thumm, Berlin. Image: Jo Baer.

Ruanne Abou-Rahme and Basel Abbas The Incidental Insurgents: The Part about the Bandits. 2012.

Chapter 1: Installation: documents, images, personal items, desks, chairs, table, stools, office cabinet, storage boxes, speakers, 2 record players, vinyls, sound of vinyl crackle, desktop computer with 35′51″ video on loop. Chapter 2: 6′ 1-channel video and 2-channel sound and subwoofer. Dimensions variable. Courtesy: The artists and Carrol/Fletcher Gallery, London.

This work was produced by Young Arab Theatre Fund and Al-Ma’mal Foundation for Contemporary Art, Jerusalem. Image: Servet Dilber / 13th Istanbul Bienali.

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89

90‑91

92‑93

196

The Incidental Insurgents: The Part about the Bandits. 2012.

Chapter 1: Installation: documents, images, personal items, desks, chairs, table, stools, office cabinet, storage boxes, speakers, two record players, vinyls, sound of vinyl crackle, desktop computer with 35′51″ video on loop. Chapter 2: 6′ 1-channel video and 2-channel sound and subwoofer. Dimensions variable.

Image: Al-Ma’mal Foundation for Contemporary Art, Jerusalem.

The Incidental Insurgents: The Part about the Bandits. 2012.

Chapter 1: Installation: documents, images, personal items, desks, chairs, table, stools, office cabinet, storage boxes, speakers, two record players, vinyls, sound of vinyl crackle, desktop computer with 35′51″ video on loop. Chapter 2: 6′ 1-channel video and 2-channel sound and subwoofer. Dimensions variable. Courtesy: The artists and Carrol/Fletcher Gallery, London.

This work was produced by Young Arab Theatre Fund and Al Mamal Foundation for Contemporary Art, Jerusalem Image: Servet Dilber / 13th Istanbul Bienali.

Mapa Teatro – Laboratorio de artistas Los incontados: un tríptico. 2014.

[The Uncounted: A Triptych].

Installation. Dimensions variable.

Image: Mapa Teatro.

Yael Bartana Inferno. 2013. [Hell]. 1-channel video and sound installation. 18′7″.

Courtesy: Petzel Gallery, New York; Annet Gelink Gallery, Amsterdam; Sommer Contemporary Art, Tel Aviv. Image: Yael Bartana.

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96‑97

98‑99

Mark Lewis Invention. 2014. Production stills for installation. Dimensions variable.

Image: Mark Lewis. Exhibition design in collaboration with Mark Wasiuta and Adam Bandler.

Financial Support: Canada Council for the Arts. Glass Sponsorship: Guardian Brasil Vidros Planos Ltda.

São Paulo Architects: SuperLimão Studio. Special Thanks: Arte Tubos, Daniel Faria Gallery, Justina M. Barnicke Gallery, The Power Plant Contemporary Art Gallery. Films: A Mark Lewis Studio production, in association with Soda Film + Art and in co-production with the National Film Board of Canada and RT Features. Writer and Director: Mark Lewis. Director of Photography: Martin Testar. Producer: Eve Gabereau. Co-Producers: Emily Morgan, Gerry Flahive for NFB, Anita Lee for NFB. Executive Producers: Lourenço Sant’ Ana for RT Features, Michelle Van Beusekom for NFB. Special Thanks: Barcelona Filmes Agnieszka Piksa Justice for Aliens. 2012.

Digital collage. 37 × 52.5 cm.

Image: Agnieszka Piksa.

Otobong Nkanga Project of the work Landversation.

2014. Drawing. Image: Otobong Nkanga.

Juan Pérez Agirregoikoa

100‑101 Letra morta. 2014. [Dead

Letter]. HD video. 27′. Director of photography: José Mari Zabala.

Image: Juan Pérez Agirregoikoa.

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103

103

104

105

106

106

107

Walid Raad Appendix C _ 19th (mid). 2014.

(Series: Scratching on Things that I Could Disavow). Wood, drywall, paint. Dimensions variable. Private collection, Baghdad. Courtesy: Paula Cooper Gallery, New York.

Image: Walid Raad.

Untitled 2. 2014. (Series: Scratching on Things that I Could Disavow).

Wood, drywall, paint. Dimensions variable. Private collection, Baghdad.

Courtesy: Paula Cooper Gallery, New York. Image: Walid Raad.

Untitled 14. 2014. (Series: Scratching on Things that I Could Disavow).

Wood, drywall, paint. Dimensions variable. Private collection, Baghdad.

Courtesy: Paula Cooper Gallery, New York. Image: Walid Raad.

Giuseppe Campuzano DNI (De Natura Incertus). 2009.

Lenticular print. 110 × 144 cm.

Image: Carlos Pereyra.

Carnet. 2011. ID photographs.

Dimensions variable.

Image: Giuseppe Campuzano.

Ines Doujak and John Barker Material research for ‘Velvet 1954’.

(Series: Loomshuttes, Warpaths / Eccentric Archive. 2009-ongoing).

Photography. Project funded by FWF Austrian Science Fund (AR 19-G21).

Image: Ines Doujak and John Barker.

Support: bmukk.

Material research for ‘Wool 1580’.

(Series: Loomshuttes, Warpaths / Eccentric Archive. 2009-ongoing).

Photography. Project funded by FWF Austrian Science Fund (AR 19-G21).

Image: Ines Doujak and John Barker.

Support: bmukk.

Velvet 1954. (Series: Loomshuttes, Warpaths / Eccentric Archive.

2009-ongoing). Print on paper.

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110

111

112

113

Dimensions variable. Project funded

by FWF Austrian Science Fund (AR 19-G21). Image: Ines Doujak.

Support: bmukk.

Cochineal 1738.

(Series: Loomshuttes, Warpaths / Eccentric Archive. 2009-ongoing).

Print on paper. Dimensions variable. Project funded by FWF Austrian Science Fund (AR 19-G21). Image: Ines Doujak.

Support: bmukk.

Qiu Zhijie The Map of the Park. 2012. Ink on wall. 300 × 400 cm. Image: Qiu Zhijie.

The Map of Utopia. 2012. Ink on wall. 350 × 900 cm. Image: Qiu Zhijie.

The Map of the Revolutionary History. 2012. Ink on wall.

100 × 250 cm. Image: Qiu Zhijie.

Thiago Martins de Melo Árvore de sangue – Fogo que consome porcos. 2013. [Blood Tree – Fire Devouring Pigs]. Oil on canvas. 390 × 360 cm. Image: Mendes Wood DM, São Paulo.

Martírio – projeto. 2013.

[Martyrdom – project]. Drawing.

Image: Thiago Martins de Melo.

Bruno Pacheco Meeting Point. 2012. Oil on canvas.

215 × 375 cm. Courtesy: Hollybush Gardens, London; Galeria Filomena Soares, Lisbon. Image: Pedro Tropa.

Meeting Point. 2011. Oil on canvas.

220 × 400 cm. Courtesy: Hollybush Gardens, London; Galeria Filomena Soares, Lisbon. Image: Pedro Tropa.

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Gülsün Karamustafa

the merging of the two cities models from a variety of perspectives). 2014. Prints, video, scale model. Dimensions variable.

Courtesy: Studio Jonas Staal.

Image: Jonas Staal

114‑115 Muhacir. 2003. [The Settler].

2-channel vídeo. 5′18″.

Courtesy: Gülsün Karamustafa and Rampa, Istanbul. Image: Gülsün Karamustafa.

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117

Sandi Hilal, Alessandro Petti and Grupo Contrafilé Mujawara. 2014. Event, collaborative action. Image: Sandi Hilal and Alessandro Petti.

Preparation for the Baobá plantation ritual, Pajelança Quilombólica Digital, Baobás’ Route/Mocambos Network, Roseira Farm, Campinas, 2010. Event, collaborative action.

Image: Peetssa Michael Kessus Gedalyovich

Erick Beltrán

126‑127 O que caminha ao lado. 2014.

[Double Goer]. Project. Image: Erick Beltrán.

Tony Chakar

128‑129 Of Other Worlds that Are in This

One. 2014. Project. Image: Tony Chakar.

Nilbar Güreş

132‑133 Open Phone Booth. 2011. 3-channel

video, HD, 16:9 format. 33′46″.

Courtesy: Nilbar Güreş, Rampa Istanbul and Galerie Martin Janda, Vienna. Image: Nilbar Güreş.

118‑119 The Name Giver. 2013. Oil

and tar on wood. 170 × 76 cm.

Courtesy: Michael Kessus Gedalyovich.

Gabriel Mascaro 120‑121 Não é sobre sapatos. 2014. [It Is Not About Shoes]. Video. Duration not yet confirmed. Image: Unknown author.

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135

Marta Neves

122‑123 Não-ideias. 2011-ongoing. [Non-

Ideas]. Series. Handpainted banner.

Dimensions variable. Image: Marta Neves.

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125

198

Jonas Staal Nosso Lar, Brasília (Plans for the cities Nosso Lar and Brasília, overlapped). 2014. Prints, video, scale model. Dimensions variable.

Courtesy: Studio Jonas Staal.

Image: Jonas Staal.

Nosso Lar, Brasília (studies for the video Nosso, Lar Brasília showing 3D impressions of

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Michael Kessus Gedalyovich The Placebo Scroll. 2014.

Palimpsest mix with nature.

Dimensions variable. Image: Michael Kessus Gedalyovich.

The Coffee Reader. 2014. Part of The Placebo Scroll. Image: Michael Kessus Gedalyovich.

Lia Perjovschi KM Map. 1999. (Series: Today.).

Diagram (Mind Map). Dimensions variable. Image: Lia Perjovschi.

Knowledge Worker. 1999.

(Series: Today.). Diagram (Mind Map). Dimensions variable.

Image: Lia Perjovschi.

Gülsün Karamustafa

138‑139 Resimli Tarih. 1995. [Illustrated

History]. Textile collage.

350 × 700 cm. Courtesy: Gülsün Karamustafa and Rampa, Istanbul.

Image: Gülsün Karamustafa.

140 141

Graziela Kunsch and Lilian L’Abbate Kelian (Núcleo performático Subterrânea) Revista Urbânia. 2001. [Urbânia Magazine]. Magazine.

Revista Urbânia 2. 2002. [Urbânia Magazine 2]. Magazine.

Jakob Jakobsen and María Berríos 142 Arquivo do “Congreso Cultural de La Habana”. 2014. [Archive of the ‘Congreso Cultural de La Habana’ [Cultural Congress of Havana]].

Digital photography. Image: Jakob Jakobsen and María Berríos.

142 Exhibition Del Tercer Mundo [On the Third Word], zone 4. 1968.

Black-and-white photograph.

Courtesy: Archivo Fotográfico del Ministerio de Cultura, Centro de Comunicación Cultural, Havana.

Image: Archivo Fotográfico del Ministerio de Cultura, Centro de Comunicación Cultural, Havana.

143 Exhibition Del Tercer Mundo [On the Third Word], zone 2. 1968.

Black-and-white photograph.

Courtesy: Archivo Fotográfico del Ministerio de Cultura, Centro de Comunicación Cultural, Havana.

Image: Archivo Fotográfico del Ministerio de Cultura, Centro de Comunicación Cultural, Havana. ruangrupa

144‑145 RURU. 2000-ongoing.

Installation. Dimensions variable.

Image: ruangrupa.

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147

148

149

150

151

Éder Oliveira Sem título – intervenção urbana. 2013. [Untitled – urban intervention]. Mural painting.

Dimensions variable. Image: Jessica Nascimento.

Sem título – processos de criação.

2013. [Untitled – creative processes].

Image: Éder Oliveira.

Virginia de Medeiros Sergio e Simone. 2007‑2009. [Sergio and Simone]. Still. Hi8 and digital video. 10′. Image: Virginia de Medeiros.

Sergio e Simone. 2014. Stills.

Hi8 and digital video-installation.

Image: Virginia de Medeiros.

Juan Downey Shabono Circular. 1977.

[Circular Shabono]. (Series: Video Trans Americas. 1973‑1979). 13 Photographs. 16 × 22 cm (each).

Image: Juan Downey.

El shabono abandonado. 1978.

[The Abandoned Shabono].

(Series: Video Trans Americas.

1973‑1979). Video. 27′. Image: Juan Downey.

Yochai Avrahami

152‑153 Stills from research visit videos.

2014. Video. Image: Yochai Avrahami.

154

Edward Krasiński Spear. 1965. View from the exhibition Edward Krasińki ABC, Bunker Sztuky, Krakow, 2008.

197 × 72 × 5 cm. Collection: Paulina Krasińka, Zalesie. Courtesy: Paulina Krasińka and Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw. Image: Paulina Krasińka and Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw.

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156

156

157

158

159

200

Spear. c. 1963/1964. 12 wooden pieces painted black and red, metal wires. 320 cm. Collection: Paulina Krasińka, Zalesie. Courtesy: Paulina Krasińka and Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw, 2013.

Image: Eustachy Kossakowski and Hanna Ptaskowska / Archive of Museum of Modern Art, Warsaw.

Sheela Gowda This is the seed of the rubber tree viewed under a magnifying glass (in the hand of the artist!). In the background are the rubber sheets.

2014. Image: Sheela Gowda.

The cuts on the trees are for the latex to ooze out of the tree. Many of these cuts are quite old. 2014.

Image: Sheela Gowda.

The liquid latex is coagulated in a tray for about six hours. After which it is passed through a simple metal press that is in the homes of the rubber tappers. Passing it repeatedly between the rollers spreads the thick pad of latex into a thinner sheet. This is then hung on a line to dry. As it dries the rubber changes into a beige/yellow translucent sheet that is then marketed. 2014.

Image: Sheela Gowda.

Bik Van der Pol School of Missing Studies.

2013‑2014. Digital diagram.

Dimensions variable. Image: Nikola Knezevic. [accumulate, collect, show]. 2011.

Installation. Dimensions variable.

Courtesy: Frieze Projects, Frieze Art Fair, London. Image: Bik Van der Pol.

Romy Pocztaruk

160‑161 A última aventura: Medicilândia.

2011. [The Last Adventure: Mediciland]. Digital photography.

Dimensions variable. Image: Romy Pocztaruk.

Teatro da Vertigem

162‑163 A última palavra é a penúltima.

2008. [The Last Word Is the Penultimate One]. Theatre play.

Image: Edu Marin.

Vivian Suter

164‑165 Images of artist’s studio. 2014.

Image: Vivian Suter.

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167

Juan Downey Inca. 1973. (Series: Video Trans Americas. 1973‑1976). Blackand-white video, sound. 27′32″.

Image: Juan Downey.

Guatemala. 1973. (Series: Video Trans Americas. 1973‑1976.). Blackand-white video, sound. 27′32″.

Image: Juan Downey.

Danica Dakić

168‑169 Vila Maria. 2014. Single-channel

video projection, colour, sound.

6′56″. Image: Danica Dakić.

Juan Carlos Romero

170‑171 Violencia. 1973‑1977. [Violence].

Print on paper. Dimensions variable.

Image: Juan Carlos Romero.

Ana Lira

172‑173 Voto! 2012-ongoing. [Vote!]. Series.

Digital photography. Dimensions variable. Image: Ana Lira.

174

Dan Perjovschi Indignation! 2013. Digital drawing.

Dimensions variable. Image: Iulia David.

175

Before and After Exploitation.

2013. Digital drawing. Dimensions variable. Image: Iulia David.

Halil Altındere

176‑177 Wonderland. 2013. Video. 8′25″.

Courtesy: Pilot Galeri, Istanbul.

Image: Halil Altındere.

Armando Queiroz with Almires Martins and Marcelo Rodrigues 178‑179 Ymá Nhandehetama. 2009. Video.

8′20″. Image: Armando Queiroz.

180

180

181

Hudinilson Jr. Pinto não pode. 1981. [Cock Is not Allowed]. Xerox, stamp paint, collage on paper. 34.5 × 21 cm.

Courtesy: Galeria Jaqueline Martins, São Paulo. Image: Filipe Bernt.

Hudinilson Jr. producing photocopies for his works. 1980.

Black-and-white photograph.

Dimensions variable.

Courtesy: Galeria Jaqueline Martins, São Paulo. Image: Galeria Jaqueline Martins, São Paulo.

Gesto IV (3ª versão). 1986. [Gesture IV (3rd version)]. Xerox photocopy.

38.5 × 20 cm Courtesy: Galeria Jaqueline Martins, São Paulo.

Image: Hudinilson Jr. ARchitecture

183‑184 2014. Image: Oren Sagiv.

187

189

EDUCATIVO Toolmap. 2014. Diagramme.

Image: Design Bienal.

VISUAL IDENTITY 2014. Poster. Image: Prabhakar Pachpute / Fundação Bienal de São Paulo.

201

Credits BIENAL DE SÃO PAULO FOUNDATION Founder Francisco Matarazzo Sobrinho · 1898–1977 Chairman Emeritus

Honorary Board Oscar P. Landmann † Chairman Honorary Board of former Presidents Alex Periscinoto Carlos Bratke Celso Neves † Edemar Cid Ferreira Heitor Martins Jorge Eduardo Stockler Jorge Wilheim † Julio Landmann Luiz Diederichsen Villares Luiz Fernando Rodrigues Alves † Maria Rodrigues Alves † Manoel Francisco Pires da Costa Oscar P. Landmann † Roberto Muylaert Management Board Tito Enrique da Silva Neto · President Alfredo Egydio Setubal · Vice President Lifetime Members Adolpho Leirner Alex Periscinoto Álvaro Augusto Vidigal Carlos Bratke Carlos Francisco Bandeira Lins Gilberto Chateaubriand Hélène Matarazzo Jens Olesen Julio Landmann Marcos Arbaitman Pedro Aranha Corrêa do Lago Pedro Franco Piva Pedro Paulo de Sena Madureira Roberto Pinto de Souza Rubens José Mattos Cunha Lima 204

Members Alberto Emmanuel Whitaker Alfredo Egydio Setubal Aluizio Rebello de Araujo Antonio Bias Bueno Guillon Antonio Bonchristiano Antonio Henrique Cunha Bueno Beatriz Pimenta Camargo Beno Suchodolski Cacilda Teixeira da Costa Carlos Alberto Frederico Carlos Jereissati Filho Cesar Giobbi Claudio Thomas Lobo Sonder Danilo Santos de Miranda Decio Tozzi Eduardo Saron Elizabeth Machado Emanoel Alves de Araújo Evelyn Ioschpe Fábio Magalhães Fernando Greiber Fersen Lamas Lembranho Geyse Marchesi Diniz Heitor Martins Horácio Lafer Piva Jackson Schneider Jean-Marc Robert Nogueira Baptista Etlin João Carlos de Figueiredo Ferraz José Olympio da Veiga Pereira Maria Ignez Corrêa da Costa Barbosa Marisa Moreira Salles Meyer Nigri Miguel Wady Chaia Nizan Guanaes Paulo Sérgio Coutinho Galvão Roberto Muylaert Ronaldo Cezar Coelho Sérgio Spinelli Silva Jr. Susana Leirner Steinbruch Tito Enrique da Silva Neto Tufi Duek

Audit Board Carlos Alberto Frederico Gustavo Halbreich Tito Enrique da Silva Neto Pedro Aranha Corrêa do Lago Executive Board Luis Terepins · President Justo Werlang · 1st Vice President Salo Kibrit · 2nd Vice President Directors Flavia Buarque de Almeida João Livi Lidia Goldenstein Mario Cunha Campos Rodrigo Bresser Pereira Advisor Emilio Kalil Superintendent Rodolfo Walder Viana Coordinations Projects and Production General Coordinator Dora Silveira Corrêa Education Curator Stela Barbieri

31st Bienal de São Paulo Curatorship Charles Esche · Curator Galit Eilat · Curator Nuria Enguita Mayo · Curator Oren Sagiv · Curator Pablo Lafuente · Curator Benjamin Seroussi · Associate Curator Luiza Proença · Associate Curator Sofia Ralston · Curatorial Assistant Advisory Board Ivo Mesquita Moacir dos Anjos Suely Rolnik Architecture Oren Sagiv · Chief Architect Anna Helena Villela · Coordinator Roi Zach · Architect Izabel Barboni Rosa · Assistant to Coordination Architecture Team Beatriz Vicino João Yamamoto Karina Kouhtek Liz Arakaki Maria Julia Herklotz Stav Dror Yifat Zailer Projects and Production Production Managers Felipe Isola Joaquim Millan Senior Producers Helena Ramos Waleria Dias

205

Junior Producers Lilian Bado Veridiana Simons Vivian Bernfeld Viviane Teixeira

Design Coordination Ana Elisa de Carvalho Price · Coordinator Felipe Kaizer · Graphic Designer Adriano Campos · Design Assistant Douglas Higa · Design Assistant Meire Assami · Design Assistant

Production Assistants Adelaide D’Esposito Fernando Hargreaves Fernando Ticoulat Gabriela Lopes

Editorial Coordination Cristina Fino · Coordinator Diana Dobránszky · Editor Maria Lutterbach · Assistant Editor

Transport Logistics Luiz Santorio Patricia Lima

Internet and New Technologies Coordination Victor Bergmann · Coordinator

Conservation Graziela Carbonari

Support to General Coordination Eduardo Lirani · Controller and Graphic Producer

Research Thiago Gil Light Design Project Design da Luz Estúdio (Fernanda Carvalho) Set Construction Fresh Design Artworks’ Audio-visual Maxi Áudio Luz Imagem Volunteer Assistant Jônatas Clemente Pereira de Brito Communication Communication Coordination Felipe Taboada · Coordinator Julia Bolliger Murari · Communication Assistant

Gabriela Longman · International Press Relations

206

Press Office Pool de Comunicação External International Press Relations Rhiannon Pickles PR Audio Guide Estúdio Zut Website Development Agência Pic Mobile Application Estúdio Existo Audio-visual Documentation Management Pedro Ivo Trasferetti von Ah

Educativo Bienal General Coordination Daniela Azevedo General Supervision Carolina Melo · Internal Relations and Training Celso Rabetti · Production and Administration Helena Kavaliunas · External Relations and Communication

Laura Barboza · Education and Content Guga Queiroga · Assistant to Supervision Administration Simone Martins · Assistant Evaluation of Actions Rosana Martins · Coordinator Luan Inarra · Intern Communication Jhony Arai · Coordinator Felipe Félix · Videomaker Vivian Lobato · Journalist Sofia Colucci · Photographer Rodrigo Lins · Photographer Sattva Horaci · Intern Photographer

Supervisors Ana Gabriela Leirias Ana Helena Garcia Santana Carlos Eduardo Poma Valadão Carolina Albuquerque Gonçalves Elena Robles Garcia Julia Jenior Lotufo Leonardo Araújo Beserra Marcus Vinicius Silva dos Santos Maria Lígia Nobre Goes Pedro Augusto Andrada Raíza Ribeiro Cavalcanti Sidiney Peterson Ferreira de Lima Viviane Tabach Wilson Tonon Lazarim Production Ana Luisa Nossar · Coordinator Dayves Vegini · Coordination Assistant Lila Schneider · Producer Uirá França · Producer André Bitinas · Assistant Pedro Nascimento · Assistant Diogo Terra Vargas · Intern Projects and Partnerships Pablo Tallavera · Actions in Communities Coordinator

Content Elaine Fontana · Coordinator Célia Barros · Content Research and Lecturer Leonardo Matsuhei · Content Research and Lecturer

Paula Nogueira Ramos · Content Research and Lecturer

Regiane Ishii · Content Research and Lecturer Educators’ Training Elaine Fontana · Coordinator Marina Pecci Jimenez · Assistant

Felipe Tenório · Actions in Communities Assistant

Anita Limulja · Teacher for the Bienal at the Schools Project

Débora Rosa · Teacher for the Bienal at the Schools Project

Bianca Casemiro · Producer Cecília Bracale · Producer Mayra Koketsu · Producer External Relations Ana Lua Contatore · Assistant Maíra Martinez · Assistant Volunteers Rosa Maria Maia Antunes · Coordinator Vera Cerqueira Natalia Galindo Chiarelli 207

Content Production for Educational Material Helenira Paulino · Coordination Célia Barros Leonardo Matsuhei Matias Monteiro Regiane Ishii Workshop for the development of Educational Material Ana Carolina Druwe Ana Helena Grimaldi Ana Letícia Penedo Bruno Garibaldi Carlos Alberto Negrini Carlos Eduardo Gomes Silva Carlos Eduardo Gonçalves da Silva Carlos Eduardo Poma Valadão Carolina Melo Célia Barros Clara Alves Débora Rosa Divina Datovo Prado Elaine Fontana Eri Alves Fábio Gomes Fábio Caiana Fátima Regina Vilas Bôas Felipe Tenório Helena Kavaliunas Helenira Paulino Jhony Arai Juliana Rodrigues Barros Lara Teixeira da Silva Lívia Cristina dos Anjos Nascimento Luiza Proença Lucas Itacarambi Lucia Abreu Machado Luciano Fávaro Marcel Cabral Couto Marco Biglia Maria Elisabeth Vespoli Maria Filippa Jorge Marisa Pires Duarte Marlene Hirata Nuria Enguita Mayo Oiram Bichaff 208

Pablo Lafuente Pedro Garbellini da Silva Pio Santana Regiane Ishii Rosana Martins Roseli Alves Sattva Horaci Stela Barbieri Sofia Ralston Talita Paes Vivian Lobato Viviane Tabach Bienal Archive Ana Luiza de Oliveira Mattos · Coordinator Ana Paula Andrade Marques · Researcher Fernanda Curi · Researcher Giselle Rocha · Conservation Melânie Vargas de Araujo · Archivist Library Project Maria do Socorro Ferreira de Araújo · Librarian

Marcele Souto Yakabi · Archivist Milton dos Santos · Assistant Inventory Project Silvana Goulart França Guimarães · Coordinator

Ana Maria de Almeida Camargo · Advisor Sebastiana Cordeiro da Silva · Senior Archivist Gustavo Aquino dos Reis · Junior Archivist Matheus Pastrello da Silva · Intern Gabriela Brancaglion Alfonso · Intern Thaís Vital Pelligrinelli · Intern Guilherme Rodrigues Ribeiro da Silva · Intern Legal Counselling Marcello Ferreira Netto

Financial Management Vagner Carvalho · Manager Amarildo Firmino Gomes · Accountant Fábio Kato · Financial Clerk Lisânia Praxedes dos Santos · Assistant Thatiane Pinheiro Ribeiro · Financial Assistant Valdemiro Rodrigues da Silva · Supplies Coordinator

Vinícius Robson da Silva Araújo · Supplies Clerk

Marketing & Fundraising Marta Delpoio · Coordinator Gláucia Ribeiro · Analyst Raquel Silva · Assistant

Maintenance Alexandro Pedreira da Silva Cléber Silva de Souza Paulo Vitor Silva Oliveira Vanderlan da Silva Bispo Janitors Isabel Rodrigues Ferreira Mércia Ferreira da Silva Rodrigo Costa de Assunção Vanilde Herculano da Silva General Secretariat Maria Rita Marinho · Manager Angélica de Oliveira Divino · Administrative Assistant

Human Resources & Maintenance Mário Rodrigues · Manager Albert Cabral dos Santos · Human Resources Assistant

Danilo Alexandre Machado de Souza · Human Resources Assistant

Manoel Lindolfo C. Batista · Consultant Engineer

Wagner Pereira de Andrade · Caretaker

Carlos Roberto Rodrigues Rosa · Courier Josefa Gomes · Catering Assistant Information Technology Leandro Takegami · Coordinator Jefferson Pedro · Assistant Institutional Relations Flávia Abbud · Coordinator Marina Dias Teixeira · Assistant

Reception Receptionists

Fabiana Salgado José Cicero Quelis da Silva Nilsandro Batista Marcelo dos Santos Pedro Luiz Januário Rogério de Jesus Rodrigues Fire Brigade Andre Fernando Ferreira Pacifico Artur Medeiros Leandro Silva Meira Corelli Ricardo de Azevedo Santos

209

PUBLICATION Concept Benjamin Seroussi Charles Esche Galit Eilat Luiza Proença Nuria Enguita Mayo Oren Sagiv Pablo Lafuente Edited by Erick Beltrán Nuria Enguita Mayo Authors Alejandra Riera – AR Ana Maria Maia – AMM Benjamin Seroussi – BS Bik Van der Pol – BVDP Charles Esche – CE Galit Eilat – GE Graziela Kunsch – GK Helena Vilalta – HV Ines Doujak – ID Jakob Jakobsen – jj John Barker – JB Luiza Proença – LP Mapa Teatro – MT Marcio Harum – MH Maria Berríos – MB Marta Mestre – MM Max Jorge Hinderer Cruz – MJHC Miguel A. López – MAL Nuria Enguita Mayo – NEM Pablo Lafuente – PL Pedro G. Romero – PGR Santiago García Navarro – SGN Teresa Lanceta – TL UEINZZ

Walid Raad – WR Walter Solon – ws Graphic Project Erick Beltrán

210

Editorial Coordination Editorial Bienal Desktop Publishing Design Bienal Translation Cid Knipel (English, French, Spanish/ Portuguese) Danielle Zilberberg (Hebrew/English) Dean Inkster (French/English) Gênese Andrade (Spanish/Portuguese) Jeffery Hessney (Portuguese/English) Lambe&Nieto (Spanish/English) Matthew Rinaldi (Portuguese/English) Vadim Nikitin (Russian/Portuguese) Ziv Neeman (Hebrew/English) Copyediting and Proofreading Bruno Tenan (Portuguese) Clare Butcher (English) Jeffery Hessney (English) Images Management Pedro Ivo Trasferetti von Ah Graphic Production Signorini Produção Gráfica Pre-press Ipsis Printing and Finishing Imprensa Oficial do Estado de São Paulo

© Publication Copyright: Fundação Bienal de São Paulo.

All rights reserved.

Images and texts reproduced in this publication were granted by permission from the artists, photographers, writers or their legal representatives, and are protected by law and licence agreements.

No part of this publication may be reproduced without prior stated permission from the artist, photographer and writer.

All efforts were made to find the copyright owners, although this was not always successful. We will be happy to correct any omission in case it comes to our knownledge.

This guide was published on the occasion of the 31st Bienal de São Paulo – How to (…) things that don’t exist, held from 6 September through 7 December 2014 at the Ciccillo Matarazzo Pavilion, Ibirapuera Park. www.bienal.org.br

Dados Internacionais de Catalogação na Publicação (CIP) [Guide 31st Bienal de São Paulo: how to (…) things that don’t exist] / Edited by Nuria Enguita Mayo and Erick Beltrán.

-- São Paulo : Fundação Bienal de São Paulo, 2014.

Curated by: Charles Esche, Galit Eilat, Nuria Enguita Mayo, Oren Sagiv, Pablo Lafuente, Benjamin Seroussi, Luiza Proença.

ISBN: 978-85-85298-47-0

1. Arte - Exposições – Guias. I. Mayo, Nuria Enguita. II. Beltrán, Erick. I. Esche, Charles. II. Eilat , Galit. III. Sagiv, Oren. IV. Lafuente, Pablo. V. Seroussi, Benjamin. VI. Proença, Luiza. VII. Título

CDD-700.74

Índice para catálogo sistemático: 1. Arte : Exposições : Guias 700.74

211

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Institucionals: ABACT, Academy of the Arts of the World, Acervo África, Afterall, Arquivo da Câmara dos Deputados, Arquivo Público do Estado de São Paulo, Arquivo Público do Estado do Rio de Janeiro, Arte Tubos, Associação Cultural Kinoforum, Associação Reciclázaro, Ateliê Aberto, Barcelona Filmes, Biblioteca Terra Livre, Brilia, Canada Council for the Arts, Casa da Imagem, Casa da Lapa, Casa de Cultura Tainã, Casa do Migrante, Casa do Povo, Central Saint Martins, Centro Cultural São João, Centro Cultural São Paulo – CCSP, Centro de Convivência Educativo e Cultural de Heliópolis, Centro de Formação Cultural Cidade Tiradentes, Choque Cultural, Cia Ballet de Cegos, Cine Marabá, Cinecidade Locações, Clube de Mães, Colégio de Santa Inês, Coletivo BaixoCentro, Coletivo Feito a Mão, Coletivo Katu, Coletivo Ocupe a Cidade, Condomínio Copan, Consulado Geral do México em São Paulo, Coordenação de Documentação Diplomática do Ministério das Relações Exteriores, Daniel Faria Gallery, Edifício Martinelli, EE Professor Augusto Baillot, EE Professor Ceciliano José Ennes, El Galpón Espacio, Embaixada da República da Polônia em Brasília, EMEF Deputado Rogê Ferreira, EMEF General Osório, EMEF Presidente Campos Salles, Escola de Samba Sociedade Rosas de Ouro, Escola de Samba Unidos de Vila Maria, Espaço Fonte, ETEC de Artes, FDE – Fundação para o Desenvolvimento da Educação, Foksal Gallery Foundation, Fundação Julita, Fundação Theatro Municipal de São Paulo, Fundación Augusto y León Ferrari Arte y Acervo (FALFAA), Galeria Athena Contemporânea, Galeria do Rock, Galeria Isabel Aninat, GoetheInstitut São Paulo, Grupo Cangarassu, Guardian Vidros do Brasil, Hebraica São Paulo, Ilú Obá De Min, Instituto Brincante, Instituto de Artes do Pará, Instituto João Goulart, Instituto Nova União da Arte, Justina M. Barnicke Gallery, Kunsthalle Basel, Largo das Artes, Lightbox, Marcha das Vadias, Mendes Wood DM, Metro Jornal, Mifal Hapais, Museo de Arte de Lima (MALI), Museu Afro Brasil, Museu de Arte de São Paulo Assis Chateaubriand (MASP), Museu Mineiro, Museu Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía (MNCARS), Museum Jorn, Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), National Film Board of Canada, Núcleo de Artes Afrobrasileiras da USP, Núcleo Educativo Bolha de Sabão, Ocupação Cine Marrocos, Pará Movimento, Pilot Gallery, Pinacoteca do Estado de São Paulo, Playarte Pictures, Poiesis – Oficinas Culturais, Prefeitura de São Paulo, Projeto Âncora, Projeto Arrastão, Projeto Latitude, Quiddity Films, Rabinovich Foundation, Rampa Istanbul, RT Features, Santander Cultural, Sarau da Cooperifa, Secretaria Municipal da Educação, SISEM – Sistema Estadual de Museus de São Paulo, Soda Film + Art, SP Urbanismo, Subprefeitura da Sé, SuperLimão Studio, Terra de Santa Cruz, The Danish Arts Foundation, The Power Plant Contemporary Art Gallery, Top 35 Locação de Equipamentos Cinematográficos, Tropical Filmes, UNIFOR, Via Quatro, Videobrasil, Voodoohop, Whitechapel Gallery

212

People: Adam Szymcyzk, Adriana Leal, Adston Mantovani Junior, Afonso Luz, Agustín Pérez Rubio, Aizpea Goenaga Mendiola, Al Clark, Albert Benlloch, Alberto Whitaker, Alejandra Hernández Muños, Alejandra Muñoz, Aleksander Gowin, Alessandro Correia Marques, Alexandre Henrique da Silva, Alfonso Celso, Alissandro Doerzbacher, Alper Demirbas, Amilcar Packer, Amit Meker, Ana Carolina Druwe, Ana Dupas, Ana Helena Grimaldi, Ana Letícia Penedo, Ana Pato, Ana Paula Cohen, André Ferraz, André Mesquita, Angélica Viana da Hora, Anibal Jozami, Anita Lee, Anna Ferrari, Anthony Corwin, Antonio Carlos Figueira de Mello, Antonio de Souza Neto, Arnaldo de Almeida Santos, Audrey Regina Ponce, Aurora Maria Sgambatti Freitas, Barbara Fischer, Barbara Thumm, Barry Rosen, Bart Baere, Bartomeu Marí, Bel Falleiros, Bernardo De Souza, Bernardo Nunes Nielsen, Berta Sureda, Brunna Macedo de Medeiros, Bruno Garibaldi, Bruno Possatti, Carla Caffé, Carla Tavarez, Carlos Alberto Negrini, Carlos Eduardo Gomes da Silva, Carlos Eduardo Gonçalves, Carlos Eduardo Valadão, Carlos Urroz, Carolina Eymann, Cássia Aparecida Frai Alves, Celso Curi, Celso Donizeti Brito, Christian Duarte, Cicero Teles da Silva, Clara Alves, Cleide Lourenço Inácio Pereira, Clémentine Deliss, Cleuza Silveira, Craig Burnett, Cristiana Tejo, Cristina Aparecida Reis Figueira, Daina Leyton, Daniel Faria, Daniel Ruaix Duran, Daniel Sabóia, Daniela Castro, Daniela Gutfreund, Darlan Alves, Davide Quadrio, Davidson Panis Kaseker, Débora Rosa da Silva, Defne Ayas, Demétrio Portugal, Dercy Aparecido Pereira, Desiderio Navarro, Diana Wescher, Diogo Rocha Ferreira, Dorota Kwinta, Douglas Freitas, Eduardo Jesus, Edward Fletcher, Elcio Fonseca, Elena Aparicio, Elena Hill, Eliana Maria Lorieri, Elizabeth de Toledo e Silva, Elvira Dyangani Ose, Elvira Marco, Emerson Rossini, Emily Morgan, Eri Alves, Esra Sarigedik, Ester Pegueroles, Eve Gabereau, Fabio Cypriano, Fábio Gomes, Fábio Moreira Caiana, Fabíola Caetano, Fátima Regina Vilas Bôas, Felipe Luz, Felipe Tenório da Silva, Felix Esche, Fernando Abdalla, Fernando de Oliveira Silva, Fernando José Mendonça de Araujo, Fernando Oliva, Flavia Giacomini, Frances Harvey, Francesca Colussi, Francisco Cruz, Gabriela Vanzetta, Gaëtane Verna, Gerry Flahive, Gisneide Tavares da Silva, Guilherme Wisnik, Gustavo Mussi Canovas, Gustavo Tranquilin Henrique, Heitor Martins, Helena Rabethge, Hendrik Folkerts, Hudinilson e Maria Aparecida Urbano, Iara Rolnik Xavier, Iara Teixeira da Silva, Icaro Vilaça, Iridam Cordeiro Rocha, Irmã Nilza, Isabel Martínez Abascal, Jade Kouri Marcos, Janaina Dalri, Jane Warrilow, Jânio de Oliveira, Jaqueline Martins, Jean-Claude Bernardet, Jesús Carrillo, Joanna Kiliszek, Joël Girard, John van de Velde, José Amálio Pinheiro, Jose Eduardo Ferreira Santos (Dinho), José Macedo de Medeiros, José Roca, Jossua Aquarone, Joyce Almeida dos Santos, Júlia Ferreira, Julia Rebouças, Juliana Pozzi, Juliana Rodrigues Barros, Julie Trickett, Julieta Zamorano, Julio C. Perez N., Júlio Martins, Katharina von Ruckteschell-Katte, Kathrin Kur, Lala Rebaza, Lamartiny Silveira Gomes, Laura Sobral, Laura Vallés, Laurence Rassel, Laymert Garcia dos Santos, Lia Mara Piccolo, Lia Rodrigues, Ligia Nobre, Lilian da Silva Lima, Lisa Um, Lisette Lagnado, Lívia Cristina dos Anjos Nascimento, Lourenço Sant’ Anna, Lua Gimenes, Lucas Gioja, Lucas Itacarambi, Lucas Oliveira, Lucas Satti, Lucia Abreu Machado, Lucia Barnea, Luciane Ramos, Luciano Fávaro, 213

Lucilene Aparecida Esperante, Luis Enguita, Luis Romero, Luiz Coradazzi, Luiz Fernando de Almeida, Luiz Fernando Mizukami, Lula Gouveia, Magdalena Ziolkowska, Maila dos Anjos Accula, Manuel Borja-Villel, Mara Sartore, Marcel Cabral Couto, Marcelo Rezende, Marcelo Walter Durst, Marcio Harum, Marco A. Biglia Junior, Marcone Vinicius Moraes de Souza, Marcos Moraes, Maria da Glória do Espírito Santo de Araújo, Maria Elisabeth Vespoli, Maria Filippa C. Jorge, Maria Helena Chenque, Mariana Cobra, Mariana Lorenzi, Maribel López, Marília de Santis, Marilys Downey, Maria Muhle, Mario Ramiro, Mario Sergio Ribeiro, Marisa Pires Duarte, Marlene Hirata Uchima, Marlise Ilhesca, Marta Kuzma, Marta Rincón, Matheus Cury, Matias Barboza Pinto, Mauricio Gasperini, Max Jorge Hinderer Cruz, Michel Gaboury, Miguel A. López, Miguel Albero, Milton Fucci Junior, Mirela Fernanda Maia Milanez Valverde, Mirian Ribeiro dos Santos, Natalia Majluf, Nayara Datovo Prado, Nazario Luque Vera, Norton Ficarelli, Oiram Bichaff, Orlando Maneschy, Osman Eralp, Otto Berchem, Pablo León de la Barra, Patricia Almeida, Paula Chiaverini, Paulina Krasinska, Paulo Herkenhoff, Paulo Rodrigues, Pedro Barbosa, Pedro Garbellini da Silva, Pedro Montes Lira, Pep Benlloch, Pere Pedrals, Pio Santana, Rachel Cook, Rachel Robey, Rafael Barber, Raimond Chaves, Raquel Rolnik, Renata Toledo Geo, Rentao Sivieri, Ricardo Resende, Roberto Winter, Rodrigo Oliveira, Rodrigo Teixeira, Ronaldo Antônio dos Santos, Rosario Peiró, Roseli Alves, Roseli Garcia, Sandra Rodrigues Paula, Solange Farkas, Sonia Ferrari Rodovalho, Sophia Alckmin, Sr. Cabral, Stephanie Smith, Talita Paes, Tania Bruguera, Tatiana Guerrero, Teresa Lizaranzu, Teresa Østegaard Pedersen, Thais Romão, Toco Alves, Tom Freitas, Tunga, Vasif Kortun, Vera Lúcia Dias da Silva Crisafulli, Vicente Todolí, Vitor Cesar, Waltemir Belli Nalles, Yolanda Wood, Zdenka Badovinac

C O - R EAL I s A T IO N

E ducation S ponsorship

R amp S ponsorship

Sponsorship

SU P P OR T

MED IA S UP P O R T

Communication

CU L T U R A L PA R TN E R S

Project made possible with the support of Proac.

I nternational S upport

R EAL I s A TIO N

INDEX of participants

220

96

Agnieszka Piksa. 1984, Warsaw, Poland.

30

Alejandra Riera. 1965, Buenos Aires, Argentina.

116

Alessandro Petti. 1973, Pescara, Italy.

178

Almires Martins. 1967. Mato Grosso do Sul, Brazil.

172

Ana Lira. 1977, Caruaru, Brazil.

58

Anna Boghiguian. 1946, Cairo, Egypt.

178

Armando Queiroz. 1968, Belém, Brazil.

54

Arthur Scovino. 1980, São Gonçalo, Brazil.

32

Asger Jorn. 1914, Vejrum, Denmark – 1973, Aarhus, Denmark.

36

Asier Mendizabal. 1973, Ordizia, Spain.

88

Basel Abbas. 1983, Nicosia, Cyprus.

158

Bik Van der Pol. 1994, Rotterdam, The Netherlands.

112

Bruno Pacheco. 1974, Lisbon, Portugal.

74

Chto Delat. 2003, Saint Petersburg, Russia.

116

Contrafilé, Grupo. 2000, São Paulo, Brazil.

176

Halil Altındere. 1971, Mardin, Turkey.

40

Clara Ianni. 1987, São Paulo, Brazil.

180

Hudinilson Jr. 1957-2013, São Paulo, Brazil.

174

Dan Perjovschi. 1961, Sibiu, Romania.

46

Imogen Stidworthy. 1963, London, England.

168

Danica Dakić. 1962, Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina.

106

Ines Doujak. 1959, Klagenfurt, Austria.

40

Débora Maria da Silva. 1959, Recife, Brazil.

142

Jakob Jakobsen. 1965, Copenhagen, Denmark.

146

Éder Oliveira. 1983, Nova Timboteua, Brazil.

86

Jo Baer. 1929, Seattle, United States.

154

Edward Krasiński. 1925, Lutsk (today part of Ukraine), Poland – 2004, Warsaw, Poland.

84

Johanna Calle. 1965, Bogotá, Colombia.

42

El Hadji Sy. 1954, Dakar, Senegal.

106

John Barker. 1948, London, England.

126

Erick Beltrán. 1974, Mexico City, Mexico.

124

Jonas Staal. 1981, Zwolle, The Netherlands.

68

Etcétera… 1997, Buenos Aires, Argentina.

170

Juan Carlos Romero. 1931, Avellaneda, Argentina.

120

Gabriel Mascaro. 1983, Recife, Brazil.

104

Giuseppe Campuzano.

1969–2013, Lima, Peru.

150, 166 Juan Downey. 1940, Santiago, Chile – 1993, New York, United States.

100

Juan Pérez Agirregoikoa. 1963, Donostia-San Sebastián, Spain.

130, 140 Graziela Kunsch. 1979, São Paulo, Brazil.

76

Kasper Akhøj. 1976, Copenhagen, Denmark.

114, 138 Gülsün Karamustafa. 1946, Ankara, Turkey.

44

Lázaro Saavedra. 1964, Havana, Cuba.

221

50

Leigh Orpaz. 1977, New York, United States.

60

Nurit Sharett. 1963, Tel Aviv, Israel.

68

León Ferrari. 1920–2013, Buenos Aires, Argentina.

64

Ocaña. 1947, Cantillana, Spain – 1983, Seville, Spain.

136

Lia Perjovschi. 1961, Sibiu, Romania.

98

Otobong Nkanga. 1974, Kano, Nigeria.

140

Lilian L’Abbate Kelian. 1976, São Paulo, Brazil.

70

Pedro G. Romero. 1964, Aracena, Spain.

90

Mapa Teatro – Laboratorio de artistas. 1984, Paris, France.

62

Prabhakar Pachpute. 1986, Chandrapur, India.

178

Marcelo Rodrigues. 1965, Belém, Brazil.

108

Qiu Zhijie. 1969, Zhangzhou, China.

142

María Berríos. 1978, Santiago, Chile.

160

Romy Pocztaruk. 1983, Porto Alegre, Brazil.

94

Mark Lewis. 1958, Hamilton, Canada.

144

ruangrupa. 2000, Jakarta, Indonesia.

122

Marta Neves. 1964, Belo Horizonte, Brazil.

88

Ruanne Abou‑Rahme. 1983, Boston, United States.

118, 134 Michael Kessus Gedalyovich.

1960, Haifa, Israel.

116

Sandi Hilal. 1973, Beit Sahour, Palestine.

64

Miguel A. López. 1983, Lima, Peru.

64

Sergio Zevallos. 1962, Lima, Peru.

72

Mujeres Creando. 1992, La Paz, Bolivia.

156

Sheela Gowda. 1957, Bhadravati, India.

64

Nahum B. Zenil. 1947, Chicontepec, Mexico.

76

Tamar Guimarães. 1967, Belo Horizonte, Brazil.

48, 132 Nilbar Güreş. 1977, Istanbul, Turkey.

162

Teatro da Vertigem. 1991, São Paulo, Brazil.

222

80

Teresa Lanceta. 1951, Barcelona, Spain.

110

Thiago Martins de Melo. 1981, São Luís, Brazil.

34

Tiago Borges. 1973, Luanda, Angola.

128

Tony Chakar. 1968, Beirut, Lebanon.

30

UEINZZ,

38

Val del Omar. 1904, Granada, Spain – 1982, Madrid, Spain.

148

Virginia de Medeiros. 1973, Feira de Santana, Brazil.

164

Vivian Suter. 1949, Buenos Aires, Argentina.

82

Voluspa Jarpa. 1971, Rancagua, Chile.

102

Walid Raad. 1967, Chbanieh, Lebanon.

52

Wilhelm Sasnal. 1972, Tarnów, Poland.

92

Yael Bartana. 1970, Afula, Israel.

64

Yeguas del Apocalipsis. 19871997, Santiago, Chile.

152

Yochai Avrahami. 1970, Afula, Israel.

34

Yonamine. 1975, Luanda, Angola.

78

Yuri Firmeza. 1982, São Paulo, Brazil.

Cia Teatral. 1977, São Paulo, Brazil.

223

Typefaces: Century Old Style (Adobe) and Circular (Lineto).

Papers: Offset Alta Alvura 90 g/m² (inside); Supremo Alta Alvura 250 g/m² (cover).

Print-run: 1,000 copies.