The 10 Best National Pavilions at the 2024 Venice Biennale

“Foreigners Everywhere,” the theme of Adriano Pedrosa’s 60th Venice Biennale, is palpable across the city, as artists and curators mount dynamic exhibitions that contend with what it means to be an outsider. As is typically the case, the curator’s conceptual framework for the International Art Exhibition has also surfaced prominently in national pavilions, from the typically mighty blockbusters in the Giardini to the less expected (but equally compelling) presentations across the neighborhoods of Giudecca, Cannaregio, Castello, and Dorsoduro.

In the midst of multiple wars and political and social turmoil at a global scale, the best national pavilions we saw in Venice sought to build empathy. Artists and curators are foregrounding Indigenous narratives and heritage; painting notions of belonging; documenting forgotten histories while imagining new futures; and urging us to engage with peoples and spaces that are often dismissed.

Here, we share the 10 standout national pavilions at 2024 Venice Biennale.

The United States pavilion

Jeffrey Gibson, “the space in which to place me”

Curated by Kathleen Ash Milby and Abigail Winograd

Giardini

The Palladian exterior of the U.S. pavilion has been concealed with vibrant swaths of color and geometric text boasting the title of Indigenous artist Jeffrey Gibson’s presentation, “the space in which to place me.” The title references a poem by Oglala Lakota Nation writer Layli Long Soldier that pushes at the limitations and colonial forces that Indigenous communities have been subject to. Instead, Gibson proposes a bold reclamation and celebration of Native and queer narratives by remixing text, patterns, colors, and histories through his signature technicolor style.

Gibson is a member of the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians and of Cherokee descent, and the first Native American artist to have a solo presentation at the U.S. pavilion. His identity is informed by his international childhood and coming of age as a queer man surrounded by diverse cultural communities. His work often references drag, nightlife, and dancehall, but for the Biennale presentation, these parts of his story are subtly woven in, instead offering the platform to an exploration of an Indigenous visual vernacular.

Gibson followed Simone Leigh’s dramatic move to cover the U.S. pavilion in raffia in 2022 with a total transformation of the courtyard to make it a site for gathering and performances. A stack of massive classical-style pedestals and podiums have been painted a monochromatic red, arranged in a circle, and set right in the center of the rectangular courtyard, where visitors are invited to climb atop.

Inside the galleries, a series of primarily new paintings and sculptures begin to reveal Gibson’s constellation of references that range from song lyrics by Nina Simone and Tracy Chapman to excerpts from the United States’s founding documents. At the center of the rotunda, an intricately beaded punching bag is decorated with a line from the U.S. Declaration of Independence: “WE HOLD THESE TRUTHS TO BE SELF EVIDENT.” Each piece is rife with layers of references, but they’re connected by a thread that pulls at what it means to be “free.”

—Jameson Johnson

The Estonian pavilion

Edith Karlson, “Hora lupi”

Dramaturgy by Eero Epner

Chiesa di Santa Maria delle Penitenti, Cannaregio

When Edith Karlson first saw the crumbling, 18th-century Chiesa di Santa Maria delle Penitenti, located on a canal at the far end of Cannaregio, she was drawn to the building’s abandoned state—particularly the hole in the floor of one room, where canal water rushes through at high tide. At the time, she only knew that she wanted her Estonian pavilion to include a sculpture of a mermaid, and that this was the perfect setting.

The church became a metaphor for the human condition: fragile, sad, broken in some ways, yet filled with potential. This is also the premise for the works on view. Keeping the space in its exact state of disrepair, Karlson has introduced her works—from the mermaid sculptures to massive concrete giants in the midst of battle to graceful ceramic cranes that perch on the floor and high above the church altars—without inflicting further damage or removing any of the dust or refuse. “Sometimes it’s maybe even hard to understand where the church begins and my work ends,” Karlson told Artsy during a walkthrough of the pavilion.

Titled “hora lupi” after the mythical “hour of the wolf,” purportedly the time of night when most people are born or die, Karlson’s presentation walks us through moments of mourning, melancholy, and fear. One room is an ode to the artist’s late dog, a ceramic version of which is curled up in a bed; while next door there are three “sad ladies” cast from the artist, her friends, and the hands of her grandmothers. There’s even a cabinet of horrors, filled with found animal skulls made otherworldly with slick enamel glaze, alongside terra-cotta sculptures of monsters made by Karlson’s son.

A sense of hope and warmth thrives in a small room hung with hundreds of ceramic faces, dimly lit by candles. The works were made by visitors to the artist’s studio who had never used clay before. In this ongoing project, Karlson invites participants to sculpt their own faces. These works, too, reflect an utterly human feeling, filled with memories of individuals who come to the foreign task with trepidation and unease, but with time, embrace the unknown.

—Casey Lesser

The French pavilion

Julien Creuzet, “Attila cataract your source at the feet of the green peaks will end up in the great sea blue abyss where we drowned in the tidal tears of the moon”

Curated by Céline Kopp and Cindy Sissokho

Giardini

The French pavilion offers an invitation to a wild underwater party set to a soundtrack inspired by the Caribbean diaspora. Multidisciplinary artist Julien Creuzet, who is a poet, composer, and performer, has created an installation that uses water as a bridge between his Martinque heritage, his French nationality, and yes, even Venice. It’s an imaginary universe where divine figures, sea creatures, and Caribbean ancestors all convene. It’s beautiful, it’s poetic, but most notably, it’s filled with whimsy—a welcome reprieve amid other exhibitions contending with similar subjects of colonialism and immigration.

The rooms are filled with otherworldly sculptures that resemble an oceanic forest of seaweed or coral. Suspended from the ceiling, the pieces are adorned with waxy drips and multicolored filaments that create a labyrinth for navigating the space.

The accompanying soundtrack and animated videos pull from Creuzet’s usual practice of collecting, splicing, and reassembling. Videos cut between different underwater worlds while the electronic soundscape moves swiftly between dance tracks and cavernous echoes. The works are grounded by a series of poems that line the walls and offer a space for reflecting on his vision for a liberatory future.

—J.J.

The Holy See pavilion

“With My Eyes,” featuring works by Maurizio Cattelan, Bintou Dembélé, Simone Fattal, Claire Fontaine, Sônia Gomes, Corita Kent, Marco Perego & Zoe Saldana, and Claire Tabouret

Curated by Chiara Parisi and Bruno Racine

Casa Reclusione Femminile Venezia, Giudecca

The Vatican’s national pavilion is perhaps the most highly anticipated this year for a few reasons—the pope is slated to visit on April 28th; it’s taking place within an active women’s prison on the island of Giudecca; and Maurizio Cattelan has created a wall mural on the facade. And it lives up to the hype.

Yet “hype” is too frivolous a term for the touching exhibition. It’s a sensitive tour through the Casa Reclusione Femminile Venezia, led by inmates who are experts on the works on view, and also contributed to the making of a few. Visitors must lock up their phones upon arriving, then are guided through brick corridors and interior spaces typically not open to the public.

Highlights include tiles by Simone Fattal featuring poetry contributed by inmates; Corita Kent’s serigraphs printed with protest messages in the cafeteria; a wall of 23 framed paintings of children, depictions of the inmates as adolescents, or of their offspring, by Claire Tabouret; Marco Perego’s short film capturing the emotional experience of one woman, portrayed by Zoe Saldaña, leaving the prison; and textile works by Sônia Gomes hanging from the ceiling of a chapel, in a state of suspension that mirrors the lives of the prisoners. Heightened by the guides’ personal impressions of the pavilion, it’s an emotional experience that creates empathy for the women living in the prison, and the populations that society looks down upon, broadly.

—C.L.

The Lebanese pavilion

Mounira Al Solh, “A Dance with her Myth”

Curated by Nada Ghandour

Arsenale

Mounira Al Solh left Beirut for Damascus, Syria, as a child during the height of the Lebanese Civil War. Now based between Amsterdam and Beirut, the multidisciplinary artist has long contended with immigration, refugees, and geographic domination, but for the Lebanese pavilion, she’s turned to storytelling about the subjugation of contemporary women through an ancient lens.

Through an impressive range of 41 pieces, including sculptures, drawings, paintings, embroidery, and video, Al Solh focuses on the ancient Phoenician character of Europa and rewrites her narrative of domination by reimagining her as a powerful protagonist. Painted canvases hanging from the ceiling depict Europa engaging with her abductor, the bull (Zeus). In the paintings, Europa is pregnant with the bull standing at her side, connected to the bull with an umbilical cord, or even morphing into the bull herself.

At the center of the room, the frame of a storybook-like fishing boat is filled with empty baskets while plastic bottles line the side and a donkey’s head perches on the bow. Meant to symbolize the journey toward gender equality, it’s notable that the boat is missing its sides—there’s still so much work to be done.

Along the periphery, a wooden platform is punctuated by Phoenician masks that sit on poles and gaze into the installation. Their piercing eyes watch the story unfold, marking the conservative and patriarchal forces that Europa and her contemporaries are up against.

—J.J.

The Nigerian pavilion

“Nigeria Imaginary,” featuring works by Tunji Adeniyi-Jones, Ndidi Dike, Onyeka Igwe, Toyin Ojih Odutola, Abraham Oghobase, Precious Okoyomon, Yinka Shonibare CBE RA, and Fatimah Tuggar

Curated by Aindrea Emelife

Palazzo Canal, Dorsoduro

“‘Nigeria imaginary’ comes from two points of departure: It explores the role of great moments in Nigerian history, moments of optimism, as well as the Nigeria that lives in our minds, the Nigeria that could be and is yet to be,” explained Aindrea Emelife, of the presentation she has curated for the Nigerian pavilion, at its inauguration.

Featuring eight artists, the pavilion includes works ranging from an ethereal sound and earth installation by Precious Okoyomon to tender new drawings by Toyin Ojih Odutola. The latter envision the Mbari Club—a cultural and intellectual hub founded by African writers and musicians in Nigeria during the 1960s, the early years of independence—which also inspired the ethos of Emelife’s presentation.

Other highlights include a dynamic ceiling painting in luminous hues of yellow and orange by Tunji Adeniyi-Jones. While directly engaging the historic palazzo setting, nodding to Giovanni Battista Tiepolo and the history of Venetian painting, Adeniyi-Jones also references Nigerian art, including the modernist paintings of Ben Enwonwu and Yoruba sculpture, as well as the foliage often used as a motif in literature.

The work of Yinka Shonibare—a stunning recreation in terra-cotta of priceless artifacts looted during the Benin Expedition, a deadly 1897 invasion of Benin City by the British military—is also a standout. “No one person can look at the work of Yinka Shonibare in this pavilion, and fail to imagine how the loss of artistic heritage involves the imaginary of this nation,” Emelife explained. “Shonibare imagines an alternative future. The objects are reclaimed and boldly displayed, not as ancient relics of a long lost primitive culture, but as examples of the sophistication and artistic invention.”

—C.L.

The Egyptian pavilion

Wael Shawky, “Drama 1882”

Giardini

The Egyptian pavilion swiftly became a buzzy location in the Giardini with an immersive installation and musical film by Wael Shawky. Entitled Drama 1882, it’s a Hamilton-esque approach to telling the story of Egypt’s Urabi revolt—a brief period in 1882 led primarily by peasants right before the British quelled the effort and occupied Egypt until 1956. Shawky is looking to this brief moment of Egypt’s past in order to draw parallels to current upheaval in the Middle East.

The 45-minute film is written, cast, choreographed, and composed by Shawky with an impressive cast of professional and amateur actors who form a large ensemble. Shawky’s work often blends fact and fiction to recontextualize long-held traditions, religions, and historical narratives. For Drama 1882, eight distinct scenes from around Shawky’s hometown of Alexandria unfold across rich, painterly backdrops. The entire performance is spoken in Arabic with a dramatic, singsongy score that follows a British officer from Malta and a man who carried him across the city on his donkey. The story concludes with a fight that is said to have started the peasant uprising.

The film is a direct response to the Biennale’s theme, “Foreigners Everywhere,” and Shawky reminds us that in the case of Egypt (and many countries outside of Europe) the foreigners are colonizers, not immigrants. In a scene where six global leaders gather to fight over who will occupy Egypt, the top hat–clad men gather around a table that is slanted on what appear to be bent spider legs. Here, the flimsy structures of colonial legacies are on full display.

—J.J.

The Ethiopian pavilion

Tesfaye Urgessa, “Prejudice and Belonging”

Curated by Lemn Sissay

Palazzo Bollani, Castello

The Ethiopian painter Tesfaye Urgessa has filled the Palazzo Bollani with a series of moving figurative paintings in a presentation titled “Prejudice and Belonging.” Works on view range from intimate portrayals of faces to large, hulking canvases filled with people and body parts entangled and engaged in a fervor of activity. The series was inspired in part by the artist’s experiences living in Germany and working as a translator for immigrants, through which he learned their stories.

“I was raising questions about what is it like to be a foreigner? And what is it like to belong?… Or how long does it take to belong?” Urgessa told Artsy at the pavilion. “In these paintings, I was trying to replicate that feeling of when you see a group of people, and when you think you know what they’re doing, what they’re up to is something familiar—but at the same time, something distant. So you feel that you are an alien in the room, a stranger in the room. I want to create that feeling in the viewer.”

The uncanny imagery is indeed at once familiar and not, leaving the viewer to search for meaning. Urgessa, who was featured in The Artsy Vanguard 2023–2024, manages to both unsettle and inspire intrigue, leaving us with empathy for the paintings and a desire to understand their narratives. We’d do well to offer the same openness to one another.

—C.L.

The British pavilion

John Akomfrah, “Listening All Night To The Rain”

Curated by Tarini Malik

Giardini

As one enters Great Britain’s pavilion through the basement-level back door, it quickly becomes clear that John Akomfrah is intent on disorienting his audience. The feeling of being stuck in a subterranean world doesn’t let up until you’ve climbed through a maze of eight rooms, each featuring a chapter, or “canto,” that together tell an interconnected story of ecocide, migration, and colonialism. It sounds nightmarish, but instead it’s mesmerizing.

The Ghanaian British filmmaker is no stranger to the biennale; he was commissioned to produce the film Vertigo Sea (2015) for the international exhibition in 2015 and was included in Ghana’s first pavilion in 2019. Multi-channel videos with cacophonous soundtracks are central to Akomfrah’s work, but for the British pavilion commissioned by the British Council, he’s unleashed a web-like narrative, too. Screens flash between archival footage of ship builders or a bloody sea lion moving across an ice cap. Moving through the space, you lose sense of whether you’re the victim or the villain in this narrative of globalization and ecological turmoil.

The rooms are punctuated by deep colors inspired by Mark Rothko’s paintings. It’s a niche reference toward abstraction that somehow makes the space flow seamlessly together while the myriad of screens distract and distort.

—J.J.

The Australian pavilion

Archie Moore, “kith and kin”

Curated by Ellie Buttrose

Giardini