Quotes of the Day

Kiwi advertising guru Howard Greive is on the phone from Wellington. He's not talking about the Toyota HiLux ute, whose award-winning "bugger" campaign he helped create, but about the higher echelons of the international art world. And, more specifically, that celestial plane where, every two years, they come to worship: the Venice Biennale. "Have you seen that little QuickTime?" he asks. "I must send it to you." Within seconds, the short movie teaser for New Zealand's Biennale party on June 8 is zipping across the Tasman. Fashioned by Greive and vodka sponsor 42 Below, the clip uses cheesy footage of dance instructors from '70s TV with a cheeky Italian voice-over: "If you are coming to the New Zealand Biennale party, you must first learn to dance with the passion of fire," it begins. "See how we bend, with a firmness of thigh and buttock … It's so special."

Meanwhile in London, P.R. firm Brunswick Arts is fielding rsvps for Australia's own Biennale bash on June 9. While the New Zealanders promise "music from London; films by Len Lye," Australia is offering a more restrained reception at the seriously elegant Hotel Cipriani. The parties reflect the different approaches the two countries are taking to promote their artists this year: for the controversial collective called et al., New Zealand is going loud; with slacker-generation sculptor Ricky Swallow, "it's a much more subtle kind of approach," says Karilyn Brown, head of audience and market development at the Aus-tralia Council, which funds the show.

Come June 9, some 30,000 of the world's leading critics, collectors and curators will descend on the Giardini della Biennale, where nearly half of the 73 competing countries are clustered in exhibition pavilions. Up for grabs is a Golden Lion award for best national presentation, but even more sought after in Venice is cultural kudos. During Vernissage, the official preview before the Biennale opens to the public on June 12, countries have only three days to impress the world. While Australia has enjoyed its own pavilion since 1954 and New Zealand (now at its third Biennale) shows off-site, the two countries have much in common. Under the shadow of the G8 nations that dominate the Giardini, both have to rely on marketing campaigns every bit as artful as their exhibitions. "Because you're small," explains Greive, "you've just got to be smarter and work a lot harder to get some awareness."

To this end, Greive and his Creative New Zealand team-mates have concocted a Key Influencer strategy. This has identified the world's top 200 taste-makers bound for Venice and letter-bombed them with an introductory note from the artists of et al. "This is not a religious or philosophical organization," their manifesto-like leaflet reads. "However, this information has already prompted many individuals to devote their entire energy to the transitional process…" Following up on the ground, et al.'s commissioner Greg Burke has been traveling the world's art capitals. "This morning in L.A. I had breakfast with Rob Storr, who is, among other things, the director of Venice 2007," he reports. While Australia will host a series of intimate breakfasts in Venice, New Zealand opted for the preemptive strike. For the critics who count, "minds are being made up even before they get to the Vernissage," says Burke, who curated New Zealand's inaugural show in 2001. "So we've coined the phrase, We've got to win the battle before we get to Venice."

With an exhibition budget of $A1.4 million, triple that of New Zealand, Australia can afford to be more relaxed. Which suits the artist. While et al.'s installations often feature cyclone fencing and cacophonous sound loops, Swallow's pale wood carvings of skulls and suburban beanbags speak more softly. "The Biennale is about this explosion of shows, and you've got such little time to look at everything," Swallow says. "So the idea I want is almost like a cool room away from that experience." Not that Australia is resting on its laurels. As well as the usual bags and brochures, pavilion-goers this time around will be issued with badges bearing messages (killing time, salad days, come together), that are also the titles of Swallow's works.

The world's oldest art fair, Venice is but one of a number of biennales the Australia Council targets to position its artists internationally: "it's part of a much bigger strategy and matrix of events and approaches," says Brown. But for New Zealand's Burke, it is the be-all and end-all; a one-stop shop for contemporary art. So when et al.'s "the fundamental practice" opens next Thursday, it will be the climax of a near-military campaign since the artists were chosen in July last year.

Refusing to identify their members (though believed to be the brainchild of Auckland artist Merylyn Tweedie), et al. have courted controversy. Their 2004 installation of Portaloos, rapture, was labeled "crap" by conservative M.P. Deborah Coddington, and their studied anonymity enraged TV presenter Paul Holmes. Even Prime Minister Helen Clark weighed in, saying the country's representative artists should "be able to articulate what this work is about." But all was forgiven in October, when et al. took out the nation's top art award for restricted access, an installation that included footage of Holmes chastising the artists. The Walters Prize judge was 2007 Biennale director Robert Storr, giving the artists a head start for this year's race.

Across the Tasman, it was announced in April that Swallow's Biennale show, "This Time Another Year" will travel to New York's P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center in December, immediately after Venice. According to the Arts Council's Brown, it's all about "using the opportunity to work toward longer-term outcomes." But with marketing strategies in place and party invites out, it's sometimes easy to overlook the art … Now, what were those dance moves again?

• Michael Fitzgerald
• In a bid to outsmart rival nations at the Venice Biennale, Australia and New Zealand have turned networking and marketing into something of a fine art