The 36th St. Paul’s allies asked: Where is the human race?

The 36th St. Paul Second Line explores the meaning of mankind. Yes, all art does this to some extent. But lately, art world fashion has tried to repent of the anthropocentrism of our species destroying the planet, emphasizing everything from cyborgs and posthumanism to interspecies relations. But today, in an era of genocide and the rise of artificial intelligence, it seems increasingly difficult for humans to find.

But if humans sound like a wide range of curatorial topics, don’t worry: there are many other topics. At the Bienal opening meeting, curators led by Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung showed that the show was also inspired by bird immigration, and Birds ignored the borders and carried the songs with them. They claim that the exhibition is also a structure of estuaries and tributaries, and they have been saying that connecting the water connected by “river to sea” is echoing the slogan of sovereignty over Palestinian without having to talk directly about Palestine.

The show is divided into six chapters, starting with the Primitive Man and ending with the Superior. It begins with the installation of precious Okoyomon installation soil and plants, and reminds the audience on the wall that “humus” and “human” have etymology. You will then board the ramp designed by Bienal Pavilion’s iconic Oscar Niemeyer and finally find the last chapter about beauty at the top. Punctuation is a Frank bowling survey that spans careers, scattered in every chapter.

As if to avoid having to speak out, it is cruel to all humans include humans and dehumanize – needless to say, but unfortunately, curators complicate this idea with artistic claims on what they think is pointing to guidance: Although I’m not sure what will be added to the end of these hypothetical verbs, I do think the show meaningfully evokes the dual meaning of the word “human”. “Human” can mean humans whose survival is threatened by uneven threats, as a result of Aline Baiana’s video work held in Bahia. There, chemical companies have killed local fish and banana trees, threatening human lifestyles and livelihoods there. But “human” can also refer to things that make us human – human nature, kindness and love, or human culture found in our art and literature. The show seems to stick to both, both of which are potentially dehumanized by race, gender, gender or nationality as artists. But the show is more about thriving than survival, their selected works persistently adhering to the right of human beauty, dreams and entertainment.

Conceptually there are a lot to do, but aesthetically, the exhibition is very close, with a preference for textiles and sounds (another theme is listening), and dominated by the tones of jewelry. An outstanding example is dozens of playful and fitting wood carvings by Brazilian artist Gervane de Paula. Only after careful inspection did people find that the work is loud and colorful, based on animals, and is also strange. For example, it will take a minute to notice that a cute large mouse is riding a huge wooden dildo, or that a cheetah is burying her face in a furry bright green field, not grass but pubic hair.

Meanwhile, the canvas of the late Haitian painter and poet Frankétienne use largely varnish and glitter in their works, in which the original playfulness conforms to the exquisite commands of color and composition. I’ve always loved seeing Sharon Hayes’ “Research” series (2019-24), which includes Verité video interviews, life with a group of people. For the work here, she talks with a women’s soccer team in the southern United States about their gender expressions—attacks during the day and eyelash extensions at night. When she asks children if they expect changes or stay the same, they are excited to take on everything they have learned. The original footage of Hayes’ candid conversation emanates humanity in a world dominated by carefully edited views on the lives of others.

I usually consider myself an agnostic of sound, but Nguyễn Trinh-Thi, Leonel Vásquez and Myriam Omar Awadi have some impressive sound installations in which mechanized sculptures and instruments gracefully make attractive sounds. In the Nguyễn device, I found myself attracting my sensors in a new way.

The bimonth of St. Paul is different from most biennials because it is free, open to the public and is located in one of the city’s main parks. Hundreds of thousands of school children see it from all over the country, while its audience is global. So it seems appropriate to perform as seriously as this game.

Nevertheless, in all the inclusion, I am a metaphor that can make me past. Oscar Murillo’s “Social Cataract” series devices carry a bunch of fake currencies that are glued to plastic lawn chairs. Its title refers to the late cataracts of Impressionism, which regrettably equates vision loss with ignorance. According to the artist, this work refers to “social blindness” experienced by others, an example of how Monet’s disability is sometimes overlooked in the narrative of his artistic genius. But Murillo himself seems to have complained about the disabled community ignore such harmful metaphors. There is no better evidence than Monet himself to prove the illogical of this metaphor: his cataract is not a barrier to innovation in his “water lily” painting, but a catalyst. He began to paint bigger and brighter so that it could be seen through the eyes of the clouds.

Many art (even currency) are not struggling, but are caused by struggles, which seems to be the show’s point of view. You can also see it in the gorgeous architecture made of junk by Moffat Takadiwa. Curator Ndikung shocked a series of contemporary crises at a press conference, describing himself as a “desperate optimist”. With this contradiction, he seems to suggest that he thinks a better world is possible, even if he thinks it is very practical and always worthy of dreaming with art. The show’s finale, about the beautiful finale, is fascinating abstraction of the protagonist Aislan Pankararu. But it’s not more beautiful than any other part. At first, this confused me, but then clicked: The show says the world is both pathetic and beautiful. In times like this, remember that both are our best choices.