Give Me Shelter

The space I was given to install at the 52nd Venice Biennale in 2007 turned out
to be a blessing in disguise.

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The space I saw 7 months prior to the opening of the Biennale looked no different
than a black pit from hell. The massive space was painted black and covered
with graffiti, broken furniture was strewn about, and holes had been kicked into
the walls from its past interim use as a rave club. At the moment, I didn’t know
what I would do with the space. When I got back to NYC, I had a conference
with Jack Shainman and Claude Simard that was motivational in getting me
started on a particular path of thinking. I began to make drawings and a model
to test the parameters of what could be done in the space. Over time, I began
to realize the nature of the space as one of transition, similarly to the water
canals that laced the city of Venice.

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I was impressed with Venice as a city that existed without automobiles nor
bicycles. The only way to travel this space was by boat, if not by one’s own
feet. Getting lost in the city added to the adventure of finding new places see,
and new things to do; and I had to rely on memory mostly to bring me back to
a specific magic spot. It was also mesmerizing, as well as calming to ride on
vaporettos every morning to my installation site at the Giardini. During these
rides, I would sit and contemplate the sunlight as it bounced off the water, which
would in turn mirror the arched and aged buildings along the way.

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It was my wish to have my wall painting become an embrace on the viewer as
they passed through the installation, with the wall color reflecting back onto
them in their movement through this space. Ultimately, I wanted this embrace
to be similar to how I felt embraced by Venice; with the wall installation, as
with the city, giving shelter to all those who passed through it.
Odili Donald Odita

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