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An ahistorical and apolitical biennial

The overarching theme is baħar abjad imsaġar taż-żebbuġ (white sea olive groves) – an afflicting nostalgic reference to a distant and definitely defunct past where Malta might have been more than a tad greener and more idyllic than it is now: not very contemporary to begin with. Reading the main concept quickly reveals that the biennial is about…nothing in particular. It lacks any critical stance on Malta’s thousands-year long history of foreign and colonial rule, and is decidedly apolitical; there is no explicit reference to the major political issues that have been facing the country: the migrant crisis, overdevelopment, lack of women’s rights (abortion in Malta is still illegal under any and all circumstances), the climate catastrophe, and censorship.[1] This year, Malta is celebrating its 60th anniversary since it was granted full independence from the British Empire in 1964, and its 20th anniversary since becoming a full EU member. I was quite astonished that these significant moments from recent history were not mentioned at all in any material circulated by the organising bodies, despite the words ‘postcolonial’ and ‘decolonial’ being randomly touted.

A curatorial statement about Insulaphilia (insular thinking) was later published, one that instantly betrays a lack of in-depth knowledge of actual happenings on the Maltese Islands’ grounds and seas: it reads as a cross between a generic Malta travel guide and an artspeak-infused exhibition press release, mentioning a number of tired ‘facts’ that the Maltese love to be told about ourselves, to then proudly repeat to the tourists. We’re right in the middle of the Mediterranean! We have been so important throughout history due to our strategic location! Our capital city is a unique architectural masterpiece and a UNESCO World Heritage site! This was coupled with some vague statements gathered around a set of art world buzzwords: identity, colonisation, transformation, memory, and possible futures. Without the necessary historically-aware framework, these are largely devoid of meaning.

The lack of criticality and historical awareness present in the conceptual framing of such a major cultural event needs to be pointed out because it reinforces certain narratives of Malta’s history that currently hold the collective Maltese imagination hostage to twisted images of Knights-era grandness, Malta as a bastion of Catholicism, geographical importance, and otherwise bygone glory days. This neutralises contemporary art’s potential to open for its audiences channels of ‘thinking historically in the present’ (curator Okwui Enwezor’s working methodology and title of the 15th Sharjah Biennial). In Malta’s case, this would entail critically revisiting the past and actively linking our history to the present state of our politics and society. For the biennial, this would mean making clear how artworks addressing Malta’s past under British colonial rule and earlier foreign rule, and future-oriented contributions such as Tania Bruguera’s The Poor Treatment of Migrants Today Will Be Our Disgrace Tomorrow (2011) speak to issues that are indeed deeply linked.

Contemporary art and heritage

Like most other things on the island, the biennial is an imported idea, and largely follows the Venetian format of having national pavilions (why?), with a number of thematic clusters/pavilions dedicated to the themes of: ‘Can you sea? The Mediterranean as a political body,’ ‘Decolonising Malta: Polyphony is Us,’ ‘The Counterpower of Piracy,’ and ‘The Matri-archive of the Mediterranean.’ These are set up in around twenty historic sites managed by Heritage Malta (Malta’s national agency for cultural heritage and the main organiser), located across the capital city of Valletta, the harbour area, and Malta’s sister island of Gozo. A total of over 70 Maltese, Malta-based, and international artists from around 30 countries participate, including some well-known names as Cecilia Vicuña, Tania Bruguera, Laure Prouvost, Pedro Reyes, and Mel Chin.

The claim is that this configuration will ‘ignite a fascinating conversation between contemporary art and heritage across Malta and Gozo’ by ‘transform[ing] some of Malta’s most beloved heritage sites into stages for artistic creations and expressions.’ This sounds promising, and despite some instances where it felt as if the artwork was simply occupying a previously empty spot, or was completely overpowered by its setting, this approach works quite well. The exhibition in the Main Guard organised around the theme of ‘Decolonising Malta: Polyphony is Us’ is one of the stronger ones overall, with works such as Raphael Vella’s video installation Dear Victoria (2024), and Fabrizio Vatieri’s La Morte è la Vostra Religione  (2024) – a tufted carpet haunted by a captivating audio track – particularly standing out. There are also instances of successful artistic interventions in/on a specific space, such as Sandra Zaffarese’s By a Lady (2024) in the main room of the National Library, which consisted of a mixed media installation attempting the making of a ‘new old book’ about the overlooked role of exceptional women throughout history in a pompous room full of old books documenting the triumphs of men. The grouping of works by Teresa Antignani, Rebecca Bonaci, Isabel Borg, Anna Calleja, Adama Delphine Fuwudnu, Bettina Hutschek, Konstantina Krikzoni, and Wioletta Kulewska Akyel, in the the Old Armoury at the Grandmaster’s Palace is another instance of a selection that produced synergy among the works convening around themes of (eco)feminism, female force, and feminine energy.

A severely lacking conceptual infrastructure

Organising such a large-scale event is not simply a matter of project management, but also requires a conceptual infrastructure that this biennial revealed to be still severely lacking in Malta; not for any lack of local talent or ability, but for lack of adequate preparedness, by which I mean a way of working that demonstrates a deep affinity for the subject matter. This manifests in various forms, with two clear instances being: museum staff on duty at a number of heritage sites hosting biennial artworks that neither cared nor knew how to behave around the art, and a lack of curatorial mindset that struck me the most in the exhibition Sejbiet u Stejjer (Discoveries and Stories) – the Maltese national pavilion presented at MUŻA, Malta’s national museum of art.

At MUŻA I was deeply disappointed to see an idiosyncratic selection of works from the national art collection that despite being strong in themselves, were displayed as a baffling arrangement that did not generate any productive discoveries, stories, or associations whatsoever. To give only one example: two paintings of female nudes (Andrew Diacono’s Reclining Female Nude and Jesmond Vassallo’s Bodies) framed Charlie Cauchi’s video work Sempre Viva about a completely unrelated subject: the Maltese diaspora in the UK, US and Canada.

These instances are symptomatic of larger problems that need to be urgently addressed if Malta is seriously considering branding itself as a contemporary art destination: a lacking infrastructure for the (contemporary) arts including a severe shortage of exhibition and project spaces, a pervasive attitude of ‘everything goes’, and a culture that is incredibly criticism-averse and avoids self-reflection and true political engagement at almost all costs. Meaningful and long-lasting cultural work is not a ready-made model that can be imported and sold as a €35 all-you-can-eat ticket to the biennial (currently going at half price).

Where does this leave the biennial?

The maltabiennale.art is being organised at the point when the Malta International Contemporary Art Space (MICAS) is set to open at any moment this year, with the stated agenda of providing a large-scale platform for contemporary art and its internationalisation. If the biennial was partly or indirectly intended as an international announcement that Malta’s contemporary art scene is one to watch, I would not say that Malta is off to a brilliant start. In the international media, it got a mixed reception at best.

At the same time, it is one of the few opportunities for Maltese and Malta-based artists to exhibit in a widely-advertised large-scale event held locally, also alongside other emerging and established international artists. The biennial also made accessible to contemporary art locations where it is usually not found; a precedent which some artists such as Austin Camilleri through his sculptural intervention Siġġu in Valletta’s Republic Square, knew to make the most out of, and one which I hope to see continuing regardless of whether other editions of the biennale are organised. Inevitably, events like this get people partying, talking, making introductions, and plans for future collaborations. It gets things going. And because Malta’s contemporary art scene is still in its infancy, it holds a wealth of untapped potential and possibilities for which an event such as the biennial could provide a basic template that can be altered to fit local requirements and affordances. Hopefully without Malta becoming another Venice and only serving as mere sunny backdrop or destination for international art world cliques’ biannual appointment.

I would also be more interested in seeing contemporary art going to places that Malta is not already selling to the tourists: holiday goers will visit the Grandmaster’s Palace, the Archaeological Museum, and Gozo’s Ġgantija temples regardless of whether there is an artwork waiting for them there. What about other places and routes having to do with overlooked or more recent historical events that are not already part of the highly curated stories we sell to the tourists (and ourselves)? What sort of artistic, artist-led, and curatorial approaches would enable contemporary art to start doing the radical work that it is capable of?