Smith, Terry

Guest Author of March and April 2014

Terry Smith already contributed to our column with his eminent text Contemporary Art in Transition: From Late Modern Art to Now in December 2010. We are honored and grateful to be able to share now his new text The Doubled Dynamic of Biennials with our readers. It is based on his keynote lecture for the Busan Biennale Symposium 2013 on Biennale Ecology in Contemporary Art, held at the Museum of Art, Busan, Korea, on November 30, 2013. After publishing his book Contemporary Art: World Currents with Laurence King Publishing in 2011, he put out Thinking Contemporary Curating in 2012 with Distributed Art Publishers (DAP). Because of his long-term research on exhibition making and different exhibition formats we are especially delighted to publish his text on biennials in the aftermath of the conference Biennials: Prospect and Perspectives which was organized by ZKM in cooperation with ifa (February 28 to March 1, 2014).


What is the role of biennials within what is loosely named the “ecology” of contemporary art? I doubt that one single answer, or even kind of answer, can be found, as that would presume the definition of an ideal biennial, one that would set the same goal for everyone, and a standard by which to measure our success and failure each time we stage such an exhibition1. As well, I am not sure that the “ecology” metaphor will sustain itself, once we acknowledge the complex contradictions and the irreconcilable antinomies that define contemporary experience, and which shape the actual life-worlds in which biennials are presented. Nonetheless, there are patterns to be discerned, and, more importantly, there are choices to be made if biennials are to continue to be a vital component of contemporary artmaking and reception.

Like many others, I have been thinking about biennials for many years—indeed, since my first visit to the Venice Biennale in 1970. More relevant to this discussion is that I have also visited every Sydney Biennale since its inception in 1973. To feel the dispersed dynamic of the biennial form, it is essential to experience, on a regular basis, Venice as the founding and most persistently influential version, but also others that are different in size, kind, and, of course, location. It is also essential to visit Documenta, to step as it were outside and above the biennial form. This is because, since Catherine David’s iteration in 1997, Documenta has been the recurrent meta-exhibition, the one that has become so ambitious in scope, and so well-funded, that it can offer an overview not only of the state of contemporary art around the world, but the state of contemporary exhibition-making. These purposes became quite explicit in Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev’s edition in 20132.

The first Sydney Biennale was shown in 1973 at the recently opened Sydney Opera House. Franco Belgiorno-Nettis, a businessman who had migrated from Italy to Australia, funded it. One of his sons chairs the Biennale Foundation today. Organized by Elwyn Lynn, a Sydney-based artist/critic/curator, the 1973 edition was the first biennial in the Asia-Pacific region. It was also the first anywhere to survey the work of a range of local, regional, and international contemporary artists, without presenting them as representative of the art of their nation of origin. In March and June 2014, the 19th edition will be presented. Curated by Juliana Engberg, director of the Australian Centre for Contemporary Art, Melbourne, its theme is “Imagine What You Desire.” In her own words:

Imagine What You Desire is an evocation celebrating the artistic imagination as a spirited describing and exploration of the world through metaphor and poesis. It makes enquiries into contemporary aesthetic experience, and relates this to historical precedents and future opportunities to imagine possible worlds. It seeks to understand the need artists have today to create immersive and expanded environments, and locates this activity as part of an art historical trajectory, and as a pursuit into the issues of human consciousness, and their psychological, cognitive and corporeal imperatives3.

This statement typifies the aspirations of well-established biennials these days. It appeals to a universal quality of art (poetic imagination), which is presumed to manifests itself today on a global scale. It is then related to new forms (immersive and expanded environments), themselves regarded as the latest chapter in the history of art. In these senses, the statement is not very different from what we might read as the rationale for a large temporary exhibition, a survey of contemporary art of the world, at a major art museum.

In Sydney, works by 90 artists from 31 countries will be shown at many venues across the city: the major art museums (the Art Gallery of New South Wales and the Museum of Contemporary Art), in abandoned factories on Cockatoo Island in Sydney Harbor, and in contemporary artspaces around town. Commercial galleries will stage related exhibitions and there will be pop-up events. Although the particular conjunction of the chosen artworks and events will be unique, the broad outlines are relatively typical of such well-resourced and carefully managed biennials, those that have been tested over time, and have won both local community acceptance and the admiration of international arts professionals.
This year, however, controversy has arisen around the fact that Transfield, still the main sponsor of the Biennale, has become the major private company executing the conservative government’s egregious policy of mandatory detention and off-shore processing of those who risk their lives on the high seas of the Indian Ocean and the Timor Straits to enter Australian territory. A call to boycott the Biennale has been issued by a number of the invited artists4.
For cities intent on establishing their own biennials, or improving the one that they have, successful biennials like the one in Sydney are instances of international culture to be examined and adapted for local use. Implicitly, they pose the question: can my city create a visual arts infrastructure that will be sophisticated enough to sustain such an event for a number of years to come? In places that have biennials similar to that in Sydney, and have had them for some time, the problem, today, is the opposite: how can the biennial form be regenerated to capture the innovative energy and the inspiring impact that it had throughout the world during the 1990s?

These are pressing issues at the moment, and I will return to them, but they should not distract us from more basic questions. If we want to find the place of biennials within the system (“the ecology”) of the modern and contemporary visual arts, we need to ask the following questions. What are the core constituents of the biennial as an exhibitionary form? How it is distinctive within the multiplicitous and proliferating array of different kinds of exhibition that have evolved for the display of art, artifacts, objects, etc.? How do biennials relate to these other forms, indeed, to the entire exhibitionary complex of which they have become a constituent part5? What kinds of purpose do biennials serve within the cultures of the cities or the localities that commit to presenting them? How do they connect with each other—locally, regionally, internationally, and globally? Then there are bigger questions, such as: How has their proliferation impacted on contemporary art practice, on curating, on museums, etc.? And the biggest: What have they offered to the larger world’s understanding of itself? Finally: How might we expect them to develop in the immediate future, and in the longer term?

To understand these issues at their most fundamental level, let us begin from the meanings of the key terms – such as “exhibition” and “biennial”—in the languages that we use6. I begin from English that, like most other European languages, is profoundly shaped by its roots in Latin. But, of course, usage changes over time. It is striking that, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, two of the key words in our equation— “exhibition” and “biennial”—acquired their current meanings in the early to mid-eighteenth century, the moment of modernization in Europe, of the Industrial Revolution, the invention of the stock holding company, the creation of the middle class, and the expansion of the British Empire. “Exhibit” derives from the Latin habare, “to hold,” and from ex, “out.” Thus the meaning: to “Hold out or submit (a document) for inspection, especially as evidence in a court of law,” or, more relevant to us, “Show (an item) publicly for entertainment, instruction, or in a competition; have (an item) on show in an exhibition.” “Biennial” derives from bi (two) and annual (yearly), and in botany means lasting for two years. The reverse sense of “occurring every two years” arrives in the mid-eighteenth century, is used more often in the later part of that century, and is applied to art exhibitions during the twentieth century, mainly to distinguish them from the much more common annual exhibitions—the Salon, the Academy, or those of artists’ societies more generally. The term “biennial” – or, if you prefer, “biennale” – has come into widespread use following the renewal of biennial exhibitions during the 1970s, and their explosive expansion since the 1990s.

Biennials share with all exhibitions the fundamental purpose of holding something out for inspection, of showing items—as the definition tells us – publicly, for entertainment, instruction, or in a competition. Within the larger exhibitionary complex, these purposes usually characterize distinct kinds of displays, which are usually held in specialized venues: music halls, public museums, or sporting fields, for example. In practice, however, while one of the three will be emphasized, the other two will be drawn upon to supplement the main purpose. A circus will aim to entertain above all, but will at times pretend to educational seriousness, and often include competitive components. Even didactic art exhibitions will offer some forms of entertainment to attract and sustain less focused visitors. Annual artist society exhibitions, since their origins in France and England during the seventeenth century, have emphasized competition: competition to gain entry to the academy, competition for prizes, then competition for sales. Since Venice in 1895, and with it as a primary model, biennials all over the world have sought to fulfill all three purposes at once.

So, as the first fundamental characteristic of a visual arts biennial exhibition, we can establish this proposition: that it offers, in varying degrees, entertainment, instruction and competition at the same time. Biennials are, crucially, exhibitionary events, as distinct from displays of the kind exemplified most clearly in the permanent collection rooms of an art museum (where continuity over time is emphasized, and change is understood as a modification or eruption within the evolutionary narrative of art’s history), and from temporary exhibitions in museums (which usually explore in more detail and depth aspects of the history of art that are exemplified in a more general way in the collection display rooms—including the rooms that show the recent past as an opening towards an unspecified present). Being events, rather than an assembly of objects in a static display, is what makes them contemporary. (I will return to this point shortly.)

The logic and dynamic of the biennial differs from the core logic and dynamic of the art museum. Museums alternate between relatively static displays of its permanent collection and a program of temporary exhibitions of artworks that usually, but not always or entirely, come from somewhere else, often from an other museum or a private collection. Within this framework, the biennial occurs as an alternative to both the collection and the temporary exhibition, while at the same time having some features of both. (Many museums – notably the Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh, host to the Carnegie International, and the Queensland Gallery of Modern Art, host to the Asia Pacific Triennial – acquire works from biennials, often the prize-winning works, thus continually reshaping their collections.) The controlled dynamic between collection and temporary exhibitions that normally prevails at the museum is disrupted by the biennial, which regularly offers different models of what both the collection rooms and temporary exhibitions program might become.

Within the exhibitionary complex more broadly, understood as an array of platforms for presenting art that ranges from huge edifices such as major art history survey museums to pop-ups shows in any available venue, the biennial occupies an intermediate position. In any given city, the visual arts exhibitionary complex works because different parts of the system challenge and energize the others: for example, a contemporary art museum might be more experimental than the local universal art museum, but may seem conservative compared to an artists’ co-operative. Without, in most cities, having a guaranteed permanent home, the biennial enacts its subversions through its recurrent impermanence. In this sense, I argue, the biennial has become a structural element with the contemporary art system, and the art exhibitionary complex more generally7.

It is often forgotten that the Venice International Exhibition only became a biennial some years after 1895 (indeed, its organization was made systematic during the fascist period). Nevertheless, the simple fact of it occurring every two years has become its most widely adopted characteristic. Why has this rather mechanical, quite pragmatic aspect of staging big-scale exhibitions become so definitive? I suggest that it is because, while they occur every two years, and are in that sense repetitions, biennials offer difference each time. They must do this, because they are committed to showing contemporary art, or recent and past art in so far as it is relevant to contemporary circumstances. Contemporary art, by its own constant redefinition, is an art of becoming, of happenings, occurrences, and occasions. While its content may include material from any time,precisely because it typically engages with more than a single temporality at the same time, contemporary art requires the event as its form of appearance.

Biennials concentrate this energy and, at the same time, encapsulate it within the slower rate of change suggested by the history of art. They are a double-sided form: reliable in their recurrence, but open-ended in their actualization. We do not know what art will be like two years from now, but we can expect that it will be different. Therefore, biennials can be counted on to build anticipation beforehand, and to surprise us when they happen. A regularly timetabled openness to contemporaneity – to art to come, whatever it may be – is the second most distinctive feature of biennials.

The first Venice International Exhibition introduced another key innovation, one that has persisted to this day: biennials are forms of cultural exchange between nations; specifically, they encourage negotiation between local and international artworlds. At Venice every two years there is a precinct, and an entire city, organized according to national pavilions. Very few other biennials follow the model of the international exposition, or trade fair, so closely. But all biennials import into a local artworld contemporary artworks from a variety of other places, works chosen as exemplary, representative and/or of high quality. As well, they often position certain local practices within this larger framework. Paul Domela noted during the Symposium that the original, Utopian desire driving the biennial was to exceed local constraints. The flip side is an equally Utopian desire to constrain international difference.
Biennials did not invent the conception of the “international” in art contexts, but they have certainly institutionalized it. “International” is not a single synonym for “global,” nor is it a straightforward antonym to “local.” Within the biennial dynamic, “international” means everywhere else; it means connectedness occurring at scales beyond the immediate reach of the local agents—that is, beyond my artworld, and those nearby. It is a concept that has a kind of default inequality built into it, but also the potential that unequal distributions of power may be overcome by assiduous activity, and by making better, more interesting, and more transformatory art right here. It recognizes the fact that artworlds everywhere else are also local, with regionalities around them, and other artworlds at practical and ideological distance. It stakes its agency on effective mobility across this circuitry, as distinct from falling subject to the logic of provincialism, of center-periphery dominance. This kind of internationalism is not globalism; it will not happen as a result of the “beneficent” spread of globalization. It must be won, precisely, against neoliberal globalization.

While artists everywhere have always been alert to art being made elsewhere that might be important to their practice, in recent decades the biennial has intensified this sense of global connectedness and comparison. It is true that, beginning with Venice, many biennials were founded by lord mayors, city leaders, or civic-minded patrons. Yet few of these acted without the support, and usually were inspired by, groups of artists who wished to exceed the limits of the their location. So, we can say that the biennial offers local artists the sharp shock of competition; it educates local audiences about art being made outside of their community; it tests local critics, inspires local collectors, and challenges local art administrators to provide the relevant infrastructure so that art of this kind can be made locally and circulated throughout the world. In sum, biennials have become the major means through which local artworlds internationalize themselves. (Other methods include travel, magazines, overseas residencies, trading exhibitions, and cultural exchanges.)
Looked at from worldly perspectives, local-international exchange is built into the biennial form. Thus the biennial has suited Western institutions that wish to sample art from everywhere else, yet not necessarily collect it. Venice, Sao Paulo, Sydney, are examples. In mirror reversal, the biennial form suits artists from elsewhere who wish to sample art from the West, but not necessarily reproduce it. Havana, beginning in 1984, remains the leading instance of this (unaligned, third world) perspective. As well, biennials demonstrate international standards for art-producing locales that wish to build and maintain permanent cultural infrastructure. This is their main role in South East and Northern Asia. In many cities in this region (Shanghai, for example) the biennial substitutes for the mega-exhibition of contemporary art in cities that do not wish, or cannot, present them as a matter of course. In Busan, the Biennale runs the risk of substituting for the creation of local visual arts infrastructure. Among the few viable alternative spaces, Open Space Bae stood out, although it is located some distance from the city.
International exchanges have never been equitable. The global spread of biennials has challenged the predominance of certain EuroAmerican art centers, such as Paris and New York, not as markets, but as art-producing localities. Biennials have done so because, since the 1990s, they have been ideal disseminative vehicles for what I have identified as the one of the major currents in contemporary art. Some characterize this current as “postcolonial” or “global” art, but I call the art of transnational transitionality[8]. Along with a number of path-finding traveling exhibitions that surveyed the art of various continents and regions, the proliferation of biennials, especially since the 1990s, has enabled artists from previously colonized countries to show their work in venues around the world. A network no longer dependent on the metropolitan centers has emerged.
It is true that, during the 1990s and 2000s, there was a repetitious narrowing of the number of artists who were regularly seen in these exhibitions, and a concentration on the efforts of a few curators. This has changed in the last few years, due to the sheer number of biennials, and the multiplicity of purposes that they now serve.
The overall impact of biennials has, I believe, been of value for contemporary art in the world as a whole. International experience has been crucial to the maturation of the work of a number of contemporary artists from previously colonized countries and those who are members of postcolonial diasporas. El Anatsui, Isaac Julian and Steve McQueen are only the most obvious of examples. It is rare for a local artworld – even those as close to enormous wealth as New York and London – to contain all the resources necessary to challenge an artist of the strongest ambition in a sustained way across the course of a career. Whatever their origins, artists today must negotiate contexts and challenges that are—at the same time – local, global, and connected. Being artists, they are sensitive to the fact that these complex relationships are not given, like rules in a game, or settled, as in traditional cultures. They are volatile, and are characterized above all by the contemporaneity of different kinds of difference.

The decolonization of key sectors of the world, and the modernization of regions outside of the West, is a global process that has been going on now for over fifty years. Such geopolitical changes have shifted the balance of cultural power (if we may put it this way) – one hopes, forever. Artists, curators, collectors, administrators in Western centers must now be as aware of art being made elsewhere in the world as they are of that made, and presented, in their local artworlds. This applies not only to artistic trafficking between regions and nations, but also within them. In South-East Asia and the Middle East, there is an intense competition for cultural dollars between cities that are located in close proximity to each other. In China, there is a fierce competition between cities all over the country that are building museums in the expectation that they will be able to fill them with exhibitions. Many countries, including South Korea, have more than one biennial, as different cities use the exhibitions to demonstrate the distinctiveness of their local cultures. The Fukuoka Art Museum has been staging surveys of Asian art since 1979, and, since 1999, been presenting the Asian Triennale, showing work from 21 countries. In 1993, the Queensland Art Gallery launched the first of what are by now seven Asia Pacific Triennials. These examples demonstrate that biennials connect art and artists not only at international and local levels, but also at inter-regional and intra¬national ones. The positive outcome is that biennials are the exhibitionary format within which these complex relationships have, in recent decades, been most effectively negotiated. On the negative side, their proliferation has promoted a competition for “brand differentiation” among closely similar products: the language here alerts us to the fact that the desires driving the biennial have been subsumed within the framework of global tourism.

Too late. Within the past few years, another large-scale change has become evident at a world geopolitical level: globalization as a hegemonic world-system may be beginning to fail. In 2008, the United States financial system was riven by its self-destructiveness, the European dream began to falter under its own vacuity, Third World countries began to resist outsourcing from the West, “Second World” models emerged in the BRIC countries, multinational corporations over-reached (for example, the spillage from BP oilrigs in the Gulf of Mexico), and governments worldwide failed to respond to climate change. Peoples everywhere have, in response, turned to local values and community building, and have developed a stronger, more critical alertness to the connectivities between localities and distant power, to power with a global reach. This response is as evident in artworlds as it is elsewhere in societies.

If the biennial began, in 1895, as an ideal form for internationalizing local artworlds (at least within the centers and peripheries of Europe), we could say that, now, the biennial has become one among the many forms that are assisting to localize the international. Like other changes in exhibition making, this is also a result of changes in art practice, which has, for decades, been leading curatorial practice. An example is the 2013-14 Carnegie International, which has responded to this overall situation in a number of interesting ways. It introduced a range of local activities two years before the opening of the main exhibition. The curators also extended the exhibition into local playgrounds (Tezuka Architects), and supported such specific community initiatives as reviving the practice of local libraries checking out works of art as well as books (Tranformazium at the Carnegie Library, Braddock). In the museum-based aspects of the show, the work of artists concerned with questions of locality (Joel Sternfeld on Utopian communes) were highlighted9.

Does the biennial have a distinctive spatial character? In most cities, the anchor of the biennial, or at least one of its sites, is the main art historical survey museum, or the museum of contemporary art, or an equivalent venue or pairing of venues. Venice and Sao Paulo are exceptional in that they have dedicated sites for their biennales. Nowadays, while the main local museum or contemporary art gallery or a dedicated site might anchor the event, biennials increasingly occur across a number of sites in their host city.

This happens most dramatically at Venice itself, with over 200 related venues outside the Giardini and the Arsenale. Thus we can identify the fourth feature of biennials: they have become distributed events. In being exceptional yet recurrent, they take on some of the character of festivals. Indeed, _New Yorker _art critic Peter Schjeldahl accuses biennials of becoming subject to “festivalism.”[10] Is he right? Is the biennial entirely about reproducing the global at a local scale? I have demonstrated, I hope, that this is less than half-true.
In recent years, the biennial has changed significantly. Its ubiquity – 150 and counting – is one reason. It is becoming a category as general as the large-scale temporary exhibition. There are other changes that are more interesting. Let me list some of them, as questions, with short answers to each.

Is the biennial a distinctive exhibitionary form, comparable to the Salon hang, the historical survey, the one artist or group show, the manifesto exhibition, the white cube, or the black box? Has it developed a discernibly different mode of establishing exhibitionary meaning, comparable to the flourishing of styles since the 1960s11?[11] The short answer to both questions is no, largely because of its diversity, that is, the complexity of demands that it must satisfy at both local and international registers.

It is now very common for biennials to be thematic exhibitions. Has this diminished their long-term, fundamental purpose of offering a wide-ranging survey of international contemporary art to local audiences? Art fairs such as Miami Basel Frieze (London and New York) and Hong Kong have taken up the model of the annual salon presented by an artists’ society, with the difference that selection is made by a jury of peers consisting of dealers rather than artists. Has the art fair replaced the biennial in offering annual surveys of contemporary art? Short answer: In places where the art fair is strong, developed, and diverse in its formats (including, for example, paracuratorial activities), yes. Elsewhere, no.

Is the online experience of art debilitating the interest of biennial visitors in the same ways and to the same degree that it is affecting museums? Is it introducing a temporality between viewers and artworks that is indifferent to the seasonal and schedule-driven character of museums and the commercial sector, galleries, fairs, and auction houses? Short answer: Yes. Biennial recurrence is an artifact of the practicalities of staging a major physical exhibition in an institution or a city on a regular basis. It makes no sense within the time zones of the Internet.

Finally, I will conclude with a more general observation about biennials in relation to the rising expectation that curators, if they wish to remain critical professionals, curate our contemporaneity.

In Thinking Contemporary Curating, I make the point that, since 2000, the biennial has been widely understood by many people in the international artworld as being in a crisis of overproduction, of having become stale in form, and, as a result, in danger of being absorbed back into the traditional museum. [12] Among the curatoriate there seems to have arisen a competition as to who could reconceive the biennial in the most inventive and influential way. Critic Eleanor Hartney: “Of late, it has become a cliche for curators to announce bravely that they are dispensing with the conventional biennial structure, a tendency so pervasive that one begins to wonder where, outside of Venice, a conventional biennial might be found today.”[13] To reinvent the biennial every time out, and do so for every iteration of the 150 and counting being mounted today, is to take on the impossible. Many curators seem to have responded to this challenge by reverting to exhibitions that are scarcely distinguishable from collections displays in museums, or those of in-depth, historical temporary exhibitions on a specific theme. For example, the 2013 Venice Biennale is a museum-type historical survey of parallels, during the twentieth century, between the exploration of psychoanalytic themes by certain modern and contemporary artists and the obsessive pursuits of “outsider” artists, many with certified mental illnesses. While finely done, and often fascinating, it puts to one side any concern about contemporary art per se.

Being committed to contemporaneity, it goes against the nature of biennials to offer installments in a longer story of art’s history, because, in contemporaneity, there is not one story, but many stories. More to the point, today’s stories will not necessarily add up into a shared history – neither a Story of Art, nor a Story of Human Being. (Perhaps that is one of the points of Venice 2013?) If biennials become more and more like other elements within the exhibitionary complex, especially the slower, more institutionalized ones, the form will become less and less able to engage with present and emerging realities. It might become necessary to invent a different exhibitionary structure, one that manifests the antinomies of our present situation: its multiplicity, its layered cotemporalities, its proliferation of differences, and its increasingly desperate reach for a revised contract with the planet.

This is the direction that, I believe, artists, curators, and arts administrators are being asked to move if they wish to really engage themselves in exhibiting our contemporaneity.


1 Based on the keynote lecture for Busan Biennale Symposium 2013 on Biennale Ecology in Contemporary Art, held at the Museum of Art, Busan, Korea, on November 30, 2013. I thank Kwangsu Oh for his invitation, Minhee Park and her team for their organization, and Jinsang Yoo, Paul Domela, Anna Harding, Calvin Hui, Kyehoon Ha, and the other participants for their conversation.

2 See Terry Smith, “Ways of World-Exhibiting,” The Exhibitionist, Vol. 7 (December 2012): 31-37.

3 See: http: //www, biennaleofSydney. com, au/19bos/exhibition/exhibition-overview/#sthash.9SJoYbTl.dpuf.

4 For a clear description of the situation, see Helen Hughes, “On the Boycott of the 2014 Biennale of Sydney,” Frieze blog, posted February 20, 2014, at

5 Tony Bennett, The Birth of the Museum: History, Theory, Politics (London: Routledge, 1995), especially chapter 6, and his important chapter “The Exhibitionary Complex,” in Reesa Greenberg, Bruce W. Ferguson, and Sandy Nairne, eds., Thinking About Exhibitions (London: Routledge, 1996).

6 Discussion during the Symposium indicated that the term “contemporary” became prominent in Korean art discourse during the 1980s.

7 See Terry Smith, Thinking Contemporary Curating (New York: Independent Curators International, 2012), chapter 2 “Shifting the Exhibitionary Complex.”

8 Terry Smith, Contemporary Art: World Currents (London: Laurence King; Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson/Prentice Hall, 2011), Part 2.

9 Daniel Baumann, Dan Byers, Tina Kukielski, 2013 Carnegie International (Pittsburgh: Carnegie Museum of Art, 2013).

10 Peter Schjeldahl, “The Art World: Festivalism,” The New Yorker (July 5, 1999): 85.

11 For a more detailed commentary see Terry Smith, “Artists as Curators/Curators as Artists: Exhibitionary Form since 1969,” in Germano Celant ed., When Attitudes Become Form; Bern 1969/Venice 2013 (Venice: Fondazione Prada, 2013), 519-530, Italian 711-17.

12 See Smith, Thinking Contemporary Curating, 92-99.

13 Eleanor Heartney, “Gwangju Report: Image Surplus,” Art in America, vol. 98, no. 11 (December 2010): 78.