- The Biennale’s 60th edition began with a silent protest by dozens of artists, curators, and cultural workers.
- The coordinated withdrawal targeted high-profile national pavilions, including Germany, Switzerland, and Canada.
- The artists’ strike was in solidarity with Palestinians amid the ongoing war in Gaza.
- The protest aims to hold cultural institutions accountable for their complicity in the conflict.
- The Biennale’s silence has become a statement on the need for art to take a moral stance.
Under the golden light of a Venetian spring, the Giardini della Biennale hummed with anticipation. Visitors in tailored linen and art-world credentials craned toward the iconic national pavilions, only to find doors sealed and lights off. A silence hung over spaces meant for provocation—one pavilion bore only a black banner inscribed with a single date: October 7. The 60th edition of the world’s most prestigious contemporary art exhibition had begun not with fanfare, but with absence. Dozens of artists, curators, and cultural workers had withdrawn their work in a synchronized act of protest, transforming the Biennale from a celebration of global creativity into a hollow stage for moral reckoning. The message was clear: in the shadow of war, art cannot pretend neutrality.
Shuttered Pavilions and Suspended Exhibitions
The coordinated withdrawal impacted several high-profile national pavilions, including Germany, Switzerland, and Canada, where participating artists refused to open their exhibitions in solidarity with Palestinians amid the ongoing war in Gaza. At the German pavilion, artists Maria Eichhorn, Kader Attia, and others announced their withdrawal, citing institutional complicity and the lack of meaningful response from cultural funders to Israel’s military actions. The Swiss pavilion, which had planned a multimedia installation on borders and belonging, remained dark, its artists stating they could not, in good conscience, participate while ‘cultural diplomacy continues to mask political violence.’ Canada’s delegation followed suit, with artist Raymond Boisjoly citing the federal government’s stance on Gaza as irreconcilable with the principles of ethical representation. These closures marked the most significant disruption in the Biennale’s recent history, turning one of art’s grandest stages into a site of protest and withdrawal.
From Cultural Diplomacy to Political Protest
The Venice Biennale, established in 1895, has long served as a platform for national self-presentation, where countries use art to project soft power and cultural prestige. But over the decades, it has also become a battleground for political dissent. Past editions have seen protests against colonialism, censorship, and war, but the current strike represents a new threshold in collective action. The 2024 edition, curated under the theme ‘Foreigners Everywhere,’ aimed to explore migration, identity, and belonging—themes now rendered urgent by the war in Gaza. The conflict, which began after Hamas’s October 7 attacks and Israel’s subsequent military campaign, has killed over 34,000 Palestinians, according to Gaza health authorities, and displaced more than two million. As global institutions faced pressure to respond, artists at the Biennale questioned whether cultural events could remain detached from geopolitics. Their strike was not spontaneous, but the culmination of months of organizing through anonymous collectives and open letters demanding institutional accountability.
The Artists Behind the Withdrawal
The protest was led by a transnational network of artists, many of whom have long engaged with themes of displacement and state violence. Among them was Kader Attia, an Algerian-French artist whose work frequently examines colonial trauma and repair. In a public statement, Attia argued that ‘to exhibit while bombs fall on Gaza is to participate in the erasure of Palestinian suffering.’ Others, like Canadian artist Raymond Boisjoly, emphasized the complicity of state-funded cultural bodies in sustaining political silence. These artists were joined by curators, art historians, and technicians who signed open letters calling on the Biennale’s organizers to issue a formal statement on Gaza and sever ties with institutions linked to military funding. Their actions reflect a broader shift in the art world, where younger and more diverse practitioners are demanding that museums, biennials, and galleries confront their entanglements with power. For many, the strike was not a rejection of art, but a reclamation of its ethical potential.
Consequences for the Art World
The closures have sent shockwaves through the global art community, raising difficult questions about the responsibilities of cultural institutions in times of war. While the Biennale’s central exhibition remains open, the absence of major national pavilions undermines its claim to represent the ‘state of the world.’ Major collectors and museum directors arriving for the opening gala were met with picket lines and protest art, complicating the usual rhythms of networking and acquisition. Some institutions have responded defensively, with the German Federal Cultural Foundation reiterating its commitment to artistic freedom while stopping short of endorsing the strike. Meanwhile, critics have accused the organizers of failing to anticipate the crisis, highlighting the gap between the Biennale’s progressive themes and its institutional practices. For artists in conflict zones, the strike has offered rare visibility—Palestinian artists in exile have been invited to speak at impromptu forums in the Giardini, transforming the space into a site of testimony as much as protest.
The Bigger Picture
This moment at the Venice Biennale is about more than one war or one exhibition. It reflects a growing demand across the cultural sector for accountability, transparency, and moral clarity. As climate collapse, authoritarianism, and armed conflict reshape the 21st century, artists are no longer content to be decorative voices. They are asserting their role as truth-tellers, even when that means withdrawing from the spotlight. The strike challenges the myth of art’s neutrality—a myth long used to shield institutions from political scrutiny. In its place, a new ethos is emerging: that to create is also to choose sides. Whether the Biennale and similar institutions can adapt to this shift will determine their relevance in an era defined by crisis.
What comes next is uncertain. The Biennale will continue for six months, and some pavilions may reopen if demands are met. But the strike has already altered the event’s legacy. It has shown that artists, often seen as individualistic or apolitical, can organize with precision and moral force. As global conflicts deepen, cultural spaces will face increasing pressure to respond. The silence in the Giardini this spring may have been unsettling, but for many, it was the most powerful statement of all.
Source: The New York Times




