After seeing the artwork at the Polish Pavilion during the 60th Venice Biennale, I couldn’t help but think: sometimes, war is the sound interrupted by silence. The audiovisual video installation consists of two videos titled “Repeat After Me I” and “Repeat After Me II”, portraying a collective image of witnesses of the armed conflict in Ukraine. The protagonists of videos created by the Ukrainian collective Open Group are refugees who share their experience of the war by recreating the sounds of weapons they remember. They then encourage the audience to repeat after them.
This year’s exhibit at the Polish Pavilion in Venice showcases a new form of modern war iconography in art history. It shies away from excessively graphic displays of violence, murder and death. Instead, it provides an aural record of emotions, focusing particularly on performance and collaboration with the audience. The ingenuity of this project also lies in the fact that it transcends the boundary between an audience and a work of art. The meaning of the artwork can be understood by anyone, even if they haven’t read the curatorial statement. I spoke with Marta Czyż, the Pavilion’s curator, about the foundations of the exhibit and preparations for the Biennale.
Julia Gorlewska: The work presented at the 60th edition of the Venice Biennale titled “Repeat After Me II” marks another collaboration with the Open Group collective. What are the origins of your partnership? How did it happen, and what made you decide to continue?
Marta Czyż: I met Yuriy Biley, a member of Open Group, in 2019 and invited him to participate in the Young Triennale in Orońsko, which I curated. We had a chance to get to know each other, and that’s when he spoke more about the practices of their group. At the same time, I was engaged in the organisation of the Konteksty Ephemeral Arts Festival in Sokołowsko. I invited the entire collective (Yuriy Biley, Pavlo Kovach and Anton Varga). Instead, three immigrant girls arrived, sharing their life stories and eventually becoming full members of Open Group. As the name suggests, the collective has an open format and champions questioning the concept of a material work of art, the idea of time, and authorship. Since then, I have become more interested in the Ukrainian art scene. I have delved deeper into it by following my favourite artists, attending their shows, writing extensively, and conducting interviews. Their sensibility and perception of the world is utterly unique and captivating.
JG: Why did you decide to stage the Polish Pavilion in such a manner? What can we expect to see inside?
MC: The pavilion is a performative video installation in the form of a military karaoke bar. It consists of two video projections: one created in 2022 and the other this year, specifically for the Biennale. I saw the first video in the Labirynt Gallery in Lublin and knew that it should be screened in front of a larger audience. Evaluation does not come easy to me because I enjoy all projects by the Open Group. However, this one in particular moved me. The piece portrays an individual experience of war without resorting to graphic visuals. It is universal, bridging the gap between contemporary art and life. It resonates not only with the Ukrainians but with refugees at large.
JG: A military karaoke bar serves as a bold and unconventional metaphor to depict war trauma.. How do these two works correspond with each other? What are the differences? Did you intend to evoke specific emotions among viewers, and what was your main focus?
MC: First and foremost, the curatorial idea was to create a new video showcasing the current circumstances of individuals struggling with war trauma and its ongoing impact. The aim is to make people understand that war should never be normalised or accepted as a part of our daily lives,regardless of its duration. I wanted them to talk about the people they are currently staying with, their nationalities, and where they are from. As far as the arrangement of the military karaoke bar is concerned, the idea came from the artists themselves. The goal of the project was to create a futuristic karaoke bar that would serve as a warning, a cautionary tale, questioning the potential outcomes if the war continues to escalate. On the other hand, it’s worth considering if the piece boils down to just a warning about the situation we must avoid in the future or if it provides some sort of survival guide for it. In a way, we wanted to mar the idyllic scenery of Venice and remind everyone about the seriousness of the current state of the world.
JG: What were the reactions of the viewers? Did they surprise you?
MC: People react very emotionally. Not everyone approaches the mic, though that was not our goal either. No one is particularly eager to repeat the sounds of war, and we don’t push them to do so. Forcing an audience to engage was not the point. We wanted to remember this pavilion as a significant anti-war statement, as a peace manifesto.
JG: Have any of your works ever stirred such strong emotions among the viewers?
MC: Yes, to be honest, but they were also artworks by Open Group.
JG: “Repeat After Me” also represents a brand-new modern war iconography in the history of art. As you mentioned, you never glorify cruelty, scenes of murder, and death. Is this a new typeof storytelling to discuss the war using contemporary art?
MC: The merit of this piece is a clear and understandable context. You don’t need to familiarise yourself with the curatorial statement although I encourage you to do so. Despite its accessibility, our installation has multiple layers that could be analysed and interpreted in a variety of ways. For instance, we collaborated on the catalogue with Cezary Żechowski, a psychiatrist, who wrote an excellent text about the trauma of sound embedded in the body. He dissected this topic and demonstrated step by step how it affects the lives of the victims of violence. Whereas, this new war iconography stems from the need to draw attention to the problem, to the aggression, and the scale of atrocities in today’s world. We live in a culture of information overload, where we are seldom emotionally impacted, even as scenes of bombing become a regular part of our daily lives. The aim of art is to redefine the language used to speak about war and find new tools and iconographies that remind one about the gravity of the issue, to encourage reflection and perhaps draw certain conclusions.
JG: You mentioned the project’s accessibility, which could do without a curatorial statement. Characteristics of contemporary exhibitions often include catalogue information, which is essential for us to fully understand the presentation. Was this result intentional?
MC: This work is unique because it doesn’t require the support of a curator’s text. In my mind, the difference between purely visual art and contemporary art is the need to place a piece in a context. An example could be Wilhelm Sasnal’s solo show “Such a Landscape” held in the POLIN Museum of the History of Polish Jews in Warsaw. The paintings displayed in this exhibit addressed particular social issues. Unlike Polish viewers who were already familiar with the artist’s work, visitors from other countries needed to read a bit more about the pieces. That is why I believe the fact that the artwork we present at the Biennale could successfully function with no curatorial text is so unique. Contemporary art is always rooted in specific contexts that must be understood in order to comprehend it.
JG: Originally, the Polish Pavilion was supposed to feature works by Ignacy Czwartos. However, the decision changed after the change of government. We avoided presenting something completely different by a hair’s breadth. Could you tell us how you became the Biennale exhibition’s curator?
MC: Open Group and I sent our application last April, so the piece had already been planned and conceived. We decided to display the first video, but also to make another installment. That was my idea as a curator. Around last May or June, it was announced that the main subject of the Biennale would be “Foreigners Everywhere”, so I thought we had a pretty good chance. We moved on to the second stage, but it turned out we didn’t win; instead we placed second as a reserve. Ultimately, the tables have turned and our exhibition is now presented during the Biennale.
JG: What sets us apart from other pavilions? Did you have time to see any shows?
MC: To be honest, I saw only nine pavilions and the main exhibition in the Giardini. That’s not much, so I couldn’t possibly draw a comparison. To tell you the truth, I don’t feel the need to do it because every pavilion is created separately. I have to come back to Venice – fortunately, there is still time for that.
JG: You are a well-known and respected curator who collaborates with institutions in Poland and abroad. What distinguishes working on the Biennale from working in traditional galleries or museums?
MC: The Biennale’s format and the opportunity to present an exhibition at the most significant art event in the world are certainly exceptional. Nonetheless, I always operate in a very similar fashion. When collaborating with artists, we begin by discussing and analysing the context to identify the key subject and highlight the main themes. Occasionally, artists themselves approach me with the invitation to work on something together. If I like it and feel “it,” I often propose a joint project, or an exhibition. On the other hand, there are my favourite artists I discovered myself and whose progress I follow, read about them, and so on. I would love to stage exhibitions with many of them when the time and circumstances are right.
JG: Could you share with us who you are collaborating with next?
MC: I am currently working on two shows with Nikita Kadan. In my opinion, he is one of the most interesting contemporary artists from Ukraine, focusing on the history of his country, and its political and social dimensions. I am very excited about this collaboration and exhibition.
