By the entrance, next to the Communist clenched fist by Polish artist Piotr Uklański, French creator Cyprien Gaillard has planted a sculpture of a large bronze duck, rescued from the ruins of a Parisian neighbourhood full of soon-to-be-demolished social housing, thus indicating the contrast between the values that disappear (housing) and the ones that survive (the museum) during one same period. Iranian artist Nairy Baghramian, with her work La colonne cassée (2008), positions two surfaces inside and outside the building which she confronts to make an l-shape. They seem symmetric, but the holes made in each element do not fit with those of the other, and therefore break the idea of transparency between the interior and the exterior. Swiss artist Pamela Rosenkranz adds a sinister note with Im Widerstand gegen die Gegenwart (In opposition to the present, 2008): four screens tacked with safety pins and, opposite one of them, a ridiculously oversized female wig. us artist Paul Sietsema shows the loss of topicality of mythical historical figures in a video where these people are represented by silent archaeological pieces. Another us artist, Susan Hiller, in one of the best works on show in this venue, reproduces fragments of songs, lectures, monologues, lists of names, etc. spoken in languages now extinct or dead. On a black screen, the single visual element is the subtitle with a translation in English. Thus, languages are also subjected to the colonisation of the modern western culture.
The Skulpturen Park actually consists of quite centric plots located in the Kreuzberg district, which several artists have been working on for years without anyone really knowing when they are going to be engulfed by concrete. The Wall once cut through the area, although all that is now left are ruins, weeds and the guards' tracks. The place has a history, but it does not stand as a symbol of anything; it is more like an empty place or, more precisely, a space that is open and potentially rich in meanings. Similarly to what occurs with the works on show at the Neue Nationalgalerie, the artists on show here have also identified with the space, they have intervened and integrated land art or bio-art pieces, they have used scaffolding, debris and waste, they have worked with the wall, etc. In general, the results are works that are barely attractive, works that are experimental and unresolved. However, the trek is worth it, especially after spending the whole day inside galleries. The ambiguous, disoriented character, encouraging spaces that call for a reflection on the place's past and its uncertain future is almost appreciated.
For Stripping Kilian Rüthemann, from Switzerland, has dug almost 300 semicircular holes that are 30 centimetres deep in an area measuring 10 by 30 metres, turning this part of the area into a geometric grid with a presence of its own, which opposes obliquely to former surveillance paths. For the work entitled Steelkill, Argentinean artist Luciana Lamothe has constructed a scaffolding with a poster of the mythical Socialist Palast der Republik, the main building of the German Democratic Republic, in its current state of demolition. (It will be replaced by a shopping centre that will maintain the façades of the former Prussian palace). A board on top reads: "Notice board." Ironic, but also quite predictable. A shed accommodates one of the most eloquent and, unquestionably, the most tragicomic pieces. Norwegian artist Lars Laumann has created a documentary about Berlin Wall fetishists, people who openly speak of their love for the stones and explain their amorous relationship with them.
Finally, the small show at the Schinkel Pavilion, an incomprehensible neoclassical invention built in times of the gdr, changes every two weeks. The display on show at present, which is not that interesting, gathers decorative and design-related pieces that contrast with the architectural style of the venue. Considering the biennial as a whole, it has strongly favoured little-known artists and grey, unpleasant aesthetics, that leave a bitter aftertaste. These works show Berlin's tragic and unhealthy history, and converse with it.
Translation: Laura F. Farhall