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It is typically a paradox: an exhibition founded during the height of nationalist sentiment at the end of the nineteenth century seeking to critically respond to the effects of globalisation; a massive, sprawling show of artists from around the world, many purporting to critically address pressing social problems, visited by a crush of well-heeled international tourists lapping up the Venetian summer. (Perhaps this is why one of the more successful works in the 53rd Biennale di Venezia was one that sounded a self-reflexive antidote to hedonistic spectacle, namely Steve McQueen’s film Giardini which ‘documented’ the public gardens that serve as the main Biennale venue during the winter off-season, when the national pavilions lie idle, visited only by floating debris, hungry dogs and those cruising for a tryst. I discuss this work in detail below). The Giardini hosts thirty national pavilions most of which belong to nations whose participation has been the longest established—these are primarily European, but also include the United States, Canada, Australia, several Latin American nations, plus Egypt, Israel, Japan and Korea. The work in these pavilions is selected by nationally appointed curators, but is not always representative of national artists—the British artist Liam Gillick who occupied the German pavilion is part of a growing (still controversial) exception, itself a phenomenon of globalisation. The Italian pavilion this year was renamed the Palazzo delle Esposizioni della Biennale, to reflect its hosting of part of the main group show that gave the Biennale its subtitle, ‘Fare Mondi’ (‘Making Worlds’). Making Worlds featured ninety artists curated by Frankfurt-based Swede Daniel Birnbaum. The Italian national component, along with some other national commissions and the remainder of the group show, was located in... The rest of this article is available to subscribers of Eyeline