Thus Waves Come in Pairs

The San Lorenzo Church in Venice has been witnessing time pass since the ninth century. It’s remained a stable home for unity and togetherness throughout times of conflict, trade, globalisation and now, climate change. Though deconsecrated 100 years ago, San Lorenzo remains a place for reflection and connection while it doubles as Ocean Space: a home for exhibitions, research and public programs that use the arts to foster education and conversation around the ocean. This year, TBA21-Academy presents a new public program: ‘Thus waves come in pairs’ showcasing an installation by Simone Fattal. The Academy also presents another by the Berlin-based duo, Petrit Halilaj and Álvaro Urbano, co-commissioned by Audemars Piguet Contemporary.

The exhibition delves into the past, present and possible futures of the Mediterranean Sea. According to the United Nations Environment Programme, the region is subject to climate change 20% faster than the global average. This rapidly changes ecosystems and societies across three continents. The Mediterranean is at once a holding ground for the civil activities of trade, for the pleasure of holidaymakers, and for the grief of refugees and asylum seekers.
Within this project curator, Barbara Casavecchia, worked with the artists and Audemars Piguet Contemporary curator, Audrey Teichmann, on the co-commissioned work. Together, they develop thematically dense installations that touch on memory, folklore, and imagined futures of connectedness both with each other and with our environments.

In San Lorenzo’s East Wing, Fattal’s display ‘Sempre il mare, uomo libero, amerai!’ (Free man, you’ll love the ocean endlessly!) reflects on the Mediterranean region’s human history. “The Mediterranean, because of its size and location, has always been used as a sea of exchange and of togetherness. Throughout history, ancient Egypt has conversed with Greece, Venetians ruled in several locations and were all over the Mediterranean from Lebanon to Spain. It is half Arabic, half European”, says Fattal.

Her work is named after a verse from the poem: ‘L’Homme et la mer’ by Charles Baudelaire which describes the waves of the sea as a mirror for the soul. Within the room, lie a series of sculptures that reflect various fables and histories around the Mediterranean. ‘Bricola’, a large earthenware sculpture, is a testament to human navigation as it references the Venetian wooden poles of the same name, used to guide boats through the lagoon’s ecosystem. While five pearlescent pink spheres of Murano glass sit at the front of the wing. The spheres evoke separate worlds within themselves, but are inscribed with poetry in lingua franca, a mixed language that borrowed terms from Italian, French, Arabic and Spanish and connected merchants, pirates, prisoners and slaves all along the Mediterranean.

In the West Wing, at the church’s entrance, are 30 delicate aluminium sculptures, crafted in varying heights, and dotted around the room like an ecosystem. They’re shaped like aquatic, terrestrial and aerial animals, though none of them resemble living creatures, which gives the silhouettes an air of fantasy and imagination. Above them, a large egg-shaped sculpture hangs from the 26-metre high ceiling, as if floating in space. The sculpture’s dimpled and textured surface that looks like San Lorenzo’s own chalky walls also looks like that of the moon. This is Petit Halilaj and Álvaro Urbano’s ‘Lunar Ensemble for Uprising Seas’: an installation that can be animated as a performance. Each sculpture doubles as a musical instrument that can only be brought to life through human interaction. Some instruments are modelled on chimes or mediaeval, DIY music-making techniques, others are fitted with fine music boxes.

Once a month, in a nod to the cycles of the moon, 20 local Venetian musicians will perform the instruments to a melody inspired by the Spanish lullaby: ‘Ay mi pescadito’. The performance begins on the piazza outside the Church, where the creatures emerge from various angles, laneways and canals, as if the sea is being brought to the city. The procession then enters the church and continues for another 30 minutes as a performance that is both tender and dramatic. “The piece calls for the open possibility of things,” says Halilaj. The fact that the sculptures also double as instruments is testament to this. Likewise, the egg, an ever-symbolic representation of life, cycles and rebirth also doubles as the moon. There are playful flute-type instruments and horns that sound like a ship in the distance. Though the space is tightly curated, there’s a wild, rawness to the performance that serves as both a rain dance in this arid zone, and a reminder of our connection with nature as primitive life.

As with Fattal’s pearlescent spheres in lingua franca, ‘Lunar Ensemble for Uprising Seas’ references collective intelligence. Further made possible, by the fact that the public is welcome to use the instruments in between performance cycles. “Some of the sculptures, when they’re not in performance, can be activated by the public themselves, meaning they’re an echo of what they were…It’s important that people feel free to take them and to make a sound with them and to engage with them,” says Petrit. Under the watch of the San Lorenzo Church, we are invited to come together to consider the histories of the Mediterranean, what futures will come of it and what role we can play in it.