The Swimming Cities of Serenissima is a fleet of handmade boats
and a crew of artists traveling the Adriatic Sea from Slovenia to
Venice this May and June, 2009. We made art boats from junk and will
be performing the dreamy story of a drifting metropolis during the
Venice Biennale, a celebrated contemporary art exhibition.
Much of the crew has created art pieces for this retrospective of the Swimming Cities of Serenissima journey. If you’re in NYC, please join us Friday or come see the show until January 1!
PANKABESTIA
Punk Beasts of the Swimming Cities
A retrospective of “Swimming Cities of Serenissima”
Anonymous Gallery 169 Bowery New York, NY
Opens Nov 20 6-9pm
As the 53rd Venice Biennale enters its last days and the world’s art community reflects, Anonymous Gallery, curator Spy Emerson and the artist SWOON provide a glimpse of what critic Jerry Saltz called “…The most moving moment I had at the Biennale…”
“Pankabestia: Punk Beasts of the Swimming Cities of Serenissima,” is a retrospective of artist Swoon’s “Swimming Cities of Serenissima,” her recent invasion of the Venice Biennale. Traveling from the Karst region of Slovenia to Venice, Italy, Swoon and 30+ artists braved the waters of the Adriatic Sea and navigated a fleet of three intricately hand crafted vessels. (more…)
Now you can see photos from the entire project, documented by the crew photographer Tod Seelie. He also did a series of portraits of the entire crew (seen above). Follow the links below to see our world in pictures.
Not everything was all work, we did get to enjoy Venice for a bit after the de-install. Here are some photos from around Venice and a campfire on the beach on Certosa (before the fire department showed up and put it out). Also keep an eye on our Flickr account as we continue to collect and post more photos and videos from our voyage.
Attach an identity to a boat and all together we are lonely looking for the next thrill.
Hub Cap Moon
Inside a chrome shell hides a heart of spinning metal.
Glowing coils ignite and reduce a fossil to carbon farting out the soot of unprocessed youth.
Roll an injector in blackened fingers, clear the mind in an observation pure as a fowled plug.
Still passions impede.
Haunted and chased, temporary as a clutch look up at a hub cap moon and try.
