Sacred Musings: April 2024

A new feature full of hot takes, recommendations, and more. Today: why I think gov't sanctioned art sucks, even at the Biennale; restaurants in Venice; and why I can't stop thinking about Coldplay.

Bonjour à tous et à toutes,

Welcome to a very special new edition of SACRED MONSTER. I’m calling it Sacred Musings, because I realized that I have more to say, and perhaps it may be worth your precious time.

At the end of each month, ALL subscribers will receive Sacred Musings. If the long-form Jean Cocteau essays are the crown jewels around here, this is gold vermeil, if you will.

If I were to go by the most frequently asked questions I get from my friends, it appears as though I am someone worth reaching out to for various recommendations. Whether it’s for a book (I’ve got something for you from inscrutable French philosophy, scandalous memoirs, heartbreaking contemporary fiction and down to faerie smut — and I’ve been asked for both and everything in between), or an art show, or a great meal in any given city, you might see a couple in this edition each month.

You can expect hot takes, random thoughts, and more… because I am nothing, if not full, of opinions.

On y va!

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In regards to the opening of the 60th Biennale di Arte:

This month, I’ve had the pleasure of heading over to Venice, Italy (which is approximately the same distance from my base here in Paris as Venice, CA is from my home in Los Angeles) a few times to take in the Cocteau show at the Peggy Guggenheim (which you can read about here). April was a big month for the Floating City, as the 60th Biennale opened this month; every outsized art ego across the globe descended on the soon-to-be Atlantis to take selfies in water taxis, remark about the theme (“Foreigners Everywhere”), and complain that they should be at the front of the line for the Pierre Huyghe exhibit, because Don’t You Know Who They Are?

Can you tell that I cherish the little niche I’ve carved for myself in the midst of this hullaballoo? Every time I head to an Art World Event I thank my lucky stars that I’m not in the business of buying or selling anything on the contemporary market. Anyway.

This was my first time experiencing the Biennale, and I found it absolutely fascinating. Look at a map marked with every art show, gallery, and exhibition and the entire city is more studded than Jojo Siwa’s outfits. And, in 2024, in a political climate where every country on the globe is represented, and everyone is at each other’s throat — I found myself wondering, is this what it was like to go to the 1939 World’s Fair? While each country was sending what they perceived to be their best and brightest to Giardini Park, I found the dynamics at play to be more interesting than the art, if I’m honest.

Only in a situation like this could you find a single palazzo hosting, across three floors: a show themed around women’s breasts; the official entry from Portugal, centered around Creole gardens; and a collateral exhibit sponsored by the government of Qatar, directly across the canal from a palazzo hosting a massive show of wartime art from Ukraine in its main building and a collaborative installation of Palestinian and Israeli artists in its basement.

But, if I’m being totally honest — aside from the aforementioned Ukraine show (which had several heavy-hitting and breaktaking pieces, including a pipe organ that an artist constructed in part using scrap metal from Russian missiles that had been dropped on Kyiv) — I wasn’t blown away.

The fact of the matter is that the pavilions at the Biennale are set up in collaboration with their respective governments. And when has government-sanctioned art EVER been interesting… transgressive… punk? I had the same thought as I was wandering the galleries at the Accademia. Endless rooms of ugly Renaissance babies, and not a single, subversive sexy Jesus to be found, because this was the stuff that had been ‘approved’ by the powers that be.

I always appreciate the work that goes into making any artistic expression — but what was on the walls was far from my cup of Mariage Frères.

VENICE RECOMMENDS:

For your brain:

— “Jean Cocteau: The Juggler’s Revenge” at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. Of course.

— “Ukraine: Dare to Dream in a World of Constant Fear” at the Palazzo Contarini Polignac.

— “Pierre Huygue: Liminal” at the Pinault Collection (Punta Della Dogana).

For your stomach:

— Zattere is a quiet and lovely stretch of Dorsoduro, which has become my favorite sestiere. OKE Zattere has lovely pizzas, for both those cursed with celiac (such as myself) and those blessed with guts that can process gluten.

— Ristorante Cantinone Storico is an adorable spot not far from the Peggy Guggenheim that I, literally, stumbled upon back in October. I have dreams about their tagliatelle alla busara.

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Random Access Memories:

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been unable to get “Computer Love” by Kraftwerk, and “Talk” by Coldplay — which samples it — out of my head. I know a lot of grizzled rock dudes who will refuse to admit that there are some great, early Coldplay records, and will say that Kraftwerk isn’t real music because there’s only computers, no instruments — to whom I say, who cares.

What I can’t shake is how the songs really mirror each other. Both of them are propulsive, and get your blood going — and are very, very sad, but in the way that reminds me of an old memory that I can’t quite place.

So, have a listen, or two or three or thirteen.

If you’re in Los Angeles next month, consider purchasing a ticket to see Kraftwerk during their nine-night residency at the inimitable Walt Disney Concert Hall. Florian Schneider left us in 2020, but I still imagine it will be incredible. I’m sad to be missing it.

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À la prochaine,

Chloë Helen America Cassens