December 12 Click on images to see larger view
The dinner is tonight. I could not bring myself to schlep that big heavy book to the Biennale this day. I have been walking everywhere. I did bring sensible shoes, but I wear open toed sandals in Phoenix almost year round. My feet did not enjoy being crammed into a pair shoes for days on end, walking everywhere, no matter how comfortable those shoes were. I lost weight too, all my pants were fitting loose.
I heard a report of a scandal. Someone told me that the city did not want to sponsor the Biennale anymore. There were also rumors of corruption. I noted and got the gist of an Italian Newspaper article that did not seem too fond of Marina Abromovic's videos. She had a series of quasi masochistic shorts that were not my cup of tea, but it's a free world - I didn't have to watch and so I didn't. I l listen to all this shocking gossip with an open mind, but I was in Italy doing an art show talking to an incredible field of like-minded artists. Sure certain other things could have happened that would have been nice, but I saw no reason to let it get me down.
This day a camera man was recording Shu Yong after he gave a talk. As the camera man was backing up, filming Shu Yong backed into one of Eva Moosbrugger's Venetian glass sculptures and smashed it to smitherines. It was horrifying.
I made my way back to my hotel and vegged for an hour steeling myself for another walk back to the Fortezza. My feet were killing me so I soaked one then the other in the bathroom sink, got dressed and went to the Gala. It was already pretty full when I got there. All of the peeps from my hood were at full tables, but eventually I found a table with Paloma, Eduardo and Jackie, plus a dutch artist and a couple from America. Paloma's mother and sister were also there. The ambiance left a bit to be desired, but the food was good and the bottomless bottle of Chianti didn't hurt. There was live opera music throughout the dinner, which I found surreal. I felt like I was in the Godfather or something. After the final course which included aperitifs, people started wandering about and talking. At least two tables broke into song. Eventually, the Fortezza security none-too-gently evicted us. Eduardo suggested we go to Salamanca, a dance club, so we all piled into several cabs and went there. I actually did not hang too long as it was too hard to get a seat and drinks. The cat drug me back into the hotel between 2 and 3 AM. As for Eduardo it was rumored he got to his hotel about 8 AM, ate breakfast and crashed for a few hours before coming back to the Biennale for the final day of the show.
Random Art Pictures
Next Day: Final Day & Awards Ceremony
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