Never in the 73 years that Venice has played host to the art world's equivalent of the Olympics had the skirts worn by female artists and Biennale camp followers been so spectacularly brief. Alas, they were almost the only spectaculars on view. Gone altogether were the champagne gaiety, the busy art politicking and the horde of wealthy patrons who normally flock to the chic pre-opening parties in the palazzos along the Grand Canal. Instead, the opening of the 34th Venice Biennale had become a social and artistic shambles. This dubious achievement was...
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