Tumultuous and busy, this Venetian event. Rich, very rich in events, artists and exhibitions. Maybe so rich never. The sixtieth edition of the Venice Biennale offers an expanded range of artistic research, and the possibility of the most diverse visits. And, in the container of off-exhibitions of the Biennial itinerary, I have chosen to pay attention to one in particular, Breasts. One word, one world. While storms rage outside, here you can find refuge and analyze more closely a universal symbol to which, however, everyone gives a different relevance.
This is done through a narrative that presents it in its most diverse facets, without slipping into the trivial and with no other option but to reflect on a theme that is as specific as it is nuanced.
Installation view, ‘Breasts’, 18 Apr – 24 Nov 2024, ACP Palazzo Franchetti, Venice. Courtesy of Carolina Pasti. Photo: Eva Herzog
The place that hosts it is the mezzanine of Palazzo Franchetti, an opulent fifteenth-century building where it seems that the exhibition has taken refuge, as if to preserve a bit of intimacy while Venice murmurs and talks.
The credit goes to the curator Carolina Pasti, who skillfully collected various testimonies through multiple expressive media: sculptures, paintings, videos and photographs, all looking at the breast more closely and unfolding the narrative constructions that, from the sixteenth century to today, have surrounded. The experience leads to the inevitable question: how is it possible that we are still formalizing ourselves in talking about breasts, that we don't get away from the usual clichés?
Censored and depicted, loved and discussed, desired, the maximum representation (in the common imagination) of the female body. Object of desire, sexuality, breastfeeding, and freedom across centuries and places.
Along Breasts we find more than thirty works that lay it bare without ever being vulgar, and that arouse wonder for the well-known and well-known, but also unexpected and unknown forms, passed under the gaze of the signatures, both well-known and emerging, who have measured themselves with the representation of this erotic and maternal symbol.
The reasons for evoking him are different, the emotions that surround him are many. However, the feeling he harbors is always delicate, be it amazement or a vague, soft discomfort. It is precisely on delicacy that this path focuses. Thanks to the collaboration with the IEO-MONZINO Foundation of Milan, to which part of the proceeds from the sales of the catalog will be allocated, Breasts wants to raise public awareness towards the prevention and treatment of breast cancer, without leaving any aspect behind the veil.
To access Breast you walk along a voluptuous corridor designed by Buchanan Studio, which introduces the five sections through a site-specific work, Booby Trap, with red drapes from which breast chandeliers of different sizes and shapes emerge to symbolize the difference of each.
‘Booby Trap’. Photo: press
A Madonna of Humility (known as the Madonna of Milk) by Bernardino del Signoraccio (ca. 1460-1540) then welcomes us into the room: tiny and delicate, she releases all the strength of the maternal gesture par excellence, breastfeeding. Cindy Sherman enters into dialogue with this space, taking on the appearance of Raphael's famous Fornarina. The other paintings in the room do the same, from Giorgio de Chirico to young artists who reinterpret the historical representation of the breast, some with modesty in showing it (Anna Weyant 1995, Canada), others less so (Teniqua Crawford 1982, Johannesbur).
In the next room, a riot of alterations and sculptures, from Marcel Duchamp's Prière de toucher (“please touch”), which features a foam rubber breast affixed to the cover of the book Le Surréalisme en 1947, to the wearable sculpture of Claude Lalanne, depicting a bib. We then move on from the ceramics of Paa Joe (1947, Ghana), to Prune Nourry, a French artist (1985) who presents the sculpture of a breast made of Venetian glass, with a bronze nipple, to represent her personal victory over the disease.
Installation view, ‘Breasts’, 18 Apr – 24 Nov 2024, ACP Palazzo Franchetti, Venice. Courtesy of Carolina Pasti. Photo: Eva Herzog
The part dedicated to photography is represented by Robert Mapplethorpe, and then Irving Penn, who abstracts a detail with gold leaf and makes abstract what is not. And then Nobuyoshi Araki, who squeezes and forces the bodies of his models with ropes. Or those who provoke using diversity, like Oliviero Toscani. Jaques Sono (1949 Belgium) instead transforms the body into a manifesto of uniqueness, bringing on display (unique case, here) the representation of a male torso.
An ironic Dalí makes snails of breasts, Luoise Bourgeois makes them a roof for a waiting belly, showing both the inside and the outside without any prejudice or shame. Charlotte Colbert's Mastectomy Mameria (1987) is a monument to the power, regenerative nature and potential of the body, gushing like a waterfall. Aurora Pellizzi (1983, Mexico) plays with textiles and the irresistible desire to touch, transforming two breasts into one of those magical figures from Rubin's vase, which here, entitled The Kiss, removes any doubts.
Artwork by Robert Mapplethorp. Photo: press
Finally Laure Prouvost, who extracts two giant breasts and transforms them into objects of her own individuality, is the prelude to Four For See Beauties, a 15-minute video shot in 2022, which with new sweetness immerses you in a story of maternal love and marine images to remind us of the flow of life stages.
This exhibition should be explored with curiosity and lightheartedness, through the eyes of a child. Discovering a much loved and represented form, symbol of one of the most primordial attachments we have, which must go beyond limiting prejudices or modesty. Breasts contains within itself the right ideas to ask why, even today, the female body produces so much fuss if revealed and declared, as if we always had to draw up a ranking of saints and sinners (when, in fact, everyone wants it).
All the rooms have high and historical, commercial and dreamlike references, always gaming as a distinctive theme. But if it is true that a breast cannot fit without a meaning, it would be nice if this exhibition could be a transversal container where we could wander around freely, choosing which dress we would most like to wear at that moment. And taking care of it, as you have to do with everything else.