Venice Biennale: Britain's New Voices

This film that you're about to see was made before the tragic

events on June 14th, when the Grenfell Tower fire

took the lives of many of its residents.

It includes contributions from Khadija Saye,

a talented young artist who died alongside her mother, Mary Mendy.

It was a privilege getting to know Khadija during the making

of this film and I hope it goes some way to reflect not just her talent

and passion for art and photography, but her incredible spirit.

The Venice Biennale, known as the Olympics of Modern Art.

Every two years, countries from around the world

send their best artists to represent them on the world's stage.

And every inch of the most beautiful city on earth

becomes crammed with thousands of curators,

gallery owners and millionaire buyers,

who descend for the opening week.

But this year, as well as the official British pavilions,

a group of diverse emerging artists are being sent to shake up Venice

with the first-ever Diaspora Pavilion.

In an art world still dominated by white Western nations,

these emerging artists are going to be exploring some of the key issues

of our time - from nationalism and identity, to borders and belonging.

And all the while, trying to make their name,

competing for the attention of the cultural elite

who pack into Venice for this most important of events

in the Arts calendar.

In just two weeks, 11 emerging

diverse artists will step into the spotlight in Venice.

But one artist's story begins all the way back in the basement

of this chip shop, in London's Ladbroke Grove.

Hi, there. I'm looking for Abbas.

-Abbas is downstairs.

-Thank you.

Abbas Zahedi is an installation and performance artist of Iranian descent.

-Hi. Hi, good to meet you.

-Pleasure.

-This is where you're hiding?

-Yeah, yeah.

I've been down here for a while now.

How did this become your work space?

Me and a lot of my friends, one of whom's family owns the shop,

we used to just meet up here a lot and discuss different ideas,

philosophy, art, literature.

And a lot of my own kind of development as an artist took

place with the ideas that I was engaging with here.

Of all the emerging artists,

Abbas has had the least conventional route to art.

His Iranian parents both died while he was growing up and when at

medical school, his life was turned upside down once again.

I lost my younger brother

and he was the last surviving member of my family.

And for the first time I had to study medicine for myself,

and not in that kind of,

my predicament of "I need a solid career to look after my family".

Now it was about me - I'm doing medicine

because I want to be a doctor.

-Your heart wasn't in it?

-No.

I said, I tried that, it's not working for me.

I have to find another way.

It was then he began exploring his heritage through art,

creating DIY installations in the chip shop.

The centrepiece of his artwork in Venice is

a new drink that he's brewed mixing a traditional Iranian

soft drink with an east London craft beer,

creating a seemingly exotic beverage,

reflecting the complexity of his Iranian-British identity.

I'm trying to make sense of my own history,

but I'm kind of playing with the idea of what a drink can be.

My mother's maiden name is Sharbatdar,

which means "the possessor of drinks".

And they were ceremonial drinks makers in their village.

And now, being an artisanal food and drink producer,

is some lofty position.

-Trendy?

-Yeah, very trendy and, you know...

So I'm thinking, "Oh, wow!

"What they were doing then, now has some different meaning."

And I'm telling my family in Iran about this and they're saying,

"What's wrong with you, we all became accountants!

"No-one does this any more."

What will success look like for you, from this experience?

I don't know what, what this is meant to be,

in terms of an artist's journey.

I just know that I've probably exhausted my time at the chip shop.

-You need a bigger platform?

-Yeah.

The idea for this new platform was born at the

Venice Biennale 2007, when curator

David A Bailey and then Culture Minister David Lammy got talking.

It doesn't get much bigger than Venice.

It's immense, in terms of the art world.

The whole world is in Venice at that point.

But there is a peculiar feeling,

because it doesn't feel like the whole world.

As you look around, there's something missing.

People used to say to me,

"Well, why'd you want to go there?

"Why would you want to go to Venice?

"What does it...? You know, that's not a place for you."

And I always got the message that,

A - it wasn't a place for me because I was black.

And B - it wasn't really a place because it was considered

a gated arena.

The art world is traditionally a very closed community.

It's hard to break in,

and that is hard if you're coming from a working-class background

or if you're coming from an ethnic minority background.

A project like this blows that wide open.

They decided to stage an exhibition that would bring diversity into

the heart of the Venice art world - the Diaspora Pavilion was born.

A world away from Venice, back in central London,

24-year-old photographer Khadija Saye lives here with her mum.

Both my parents are from Gambia.

And my mother is Christian and my father is Muslim.

So this idea of having these dual faiths -

and being brought up going to the mosque and going to church -

it's always been something I've always found fascinating.

And it's one of the first times I've been able to explore it

through my photography.

Venice is Khadija's first professional exhibition since leaving art school.

She'll be presenting six self portraits,

created using a Victorian photography process.

In each photo, she's holding a different object,

blessed by an animist faith healer,

a ritual tradition practised by Gambian communities of all faiths.

So, you are the youngest of the emerging artists going to Venice.

Does that fill you with pride or trepidation?

A combination of the two!

I feel like the industry in general is quite traditional

and it seems like there's formulas or things

that you sort of have to know the right person,

-do the right thing.

-Quite cliquey.

And when you're outside of that,

it's quite difficult to know where to begin.

You may hear whispers, but no-one really tells you,

"This is how you get buyers to see your work."

So that's the thing I'm most excited about,

just to actually hear how do artists make a living.

Because there's this title, "the struggling artist", but...

You don't want to fulfil that stereotype.

It's 2017! I can't be struggling.

I need to actually progress and see how...how to make it a career.

Because that's the dream, isn't it, just be paid to make work.

While Abbas and Khadija are preparing to pack their bags,

another of the emerging artists is already in Venice, where she has

been creating a new site-specific work for the past two weeks.

Barbara Walker uses charcoal to draw directly onto walls,

making intricate, yet epic depictions

of neglected figures from black British history.

In Venice, she's marking the contribution of the

British West Indies Regiment who served in the First World War.

Barbara's been a professional artist in her home city

of Birmingham for over 20 years,

but she's still little-known outside of the Midlands.

I don't regard myself as an emerging artist.

But outside of certain frameworks I will be regarded as emerging.

How do you cross over and be seen more visible within that field?

That is the difficulty.

I'm trying to understand how the system works.

I want people to see my work.

And it seems as though I have to go to the market,

either if it's London or international.

You need to be out there, you need to be pushing your practice.

Kind of an exhibitionist which is not me, but...!

Barbara's new work has particular significance for Venice.

While researching, she discovered that at the end of the war,

the British West Indies Regiment were transferred to Italy,

where the endured racial discrimination,

leading to a violent event, little remembered in the history books.

There was resentment.

There was an uprising.

There was revolt.

There was mutiny.

They were arrested.

The ringleaders were sentenced.

These individuals volunteered their service and were mistreated

and I wanted to give them their final parade,

because they were denied that.

And this is it.

It's almost time for the first-ever Diaspora Pavilion to open.

And the artists are arriving to install their finished pieces.

The exhibition will showcase 11 emerging British talents who have

each created new work influenced by their diverse heritage.

So, we're halfway through the installation process.

Juggling lots of things at the moment.

It still looks like a bit of a building site

and there's just stuff everywhere.

So it's really difficult to kind of get

a clear sense of how pristine all of this will look.

And they haven't got long.

It's the beginning of the opening week.

For the next seven months,

many of the grand palazzos of Venice transform into art galleries

and the Diaspora Pavilion is taking residence

in Palazzo Pisani Santa Marina,

near to the Rialto Bridge.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

-Hey!

-Hi.

-You're here!

-Yes.

I've arrived to meet the artists before they make their debut.

I've got to say, Khadija, they look amazing on the wall, they really do.

-Are you happy?

-Yeah, extremely happy.

It's actually real now.

Soon the press and public will have their say on the pavilion,

but for tonight, I want to take the artists out

so they can let their hair down and soak in this experience.

It's not every day an artist makes their Venice debut.

We're on our way to experience the other thing the Biennale's

famous for - the parties!

We've come to a VIP launch event at one of the most prestigious

addresses on the Grand Canal - the Peggy Guggenheim Gallery.

For the artists, this isn't just about fun, this is work.

It's their chance to meet the taste makers,

curators and collectors, to mingle and make contacts.

The parties are the core of the Venice Biennale in a way.

It's all about social networking, who you're going to meet,

where you're going to find them, who's going where.

Whether you're invited - that's the very big one.

Are you going to have to queue? Can you get a water taxi?

Those are the real questions!

And for an artist looking to boost their profile, like Barbara,

this is a prime opportunity to break into this exclusive network.

When you thought about being part of the Diaspora Pavilion,

what did you want, what was the outcome that you wanted from it?

I think the ultimately it's visibility.

The idea of the artist working in the studio doesn't exist.

It's an old romantic notion.

I think artists need to be visible, they need to be proactive.

And they need to get out there.

Have you pinpointed people

that you want to go and speak to specifically?

-Oh, yeah. There's a few!

-SHE LAUGHS

-I'm not saying.

-How are you going to approach it?

Are you just going to go up to them after your martini?

Or have you got a strategy?

It's having a conversation.

It's a platform to get close.

And have a conversation and it's a relationship.

And let's see what happens, what materialises from it.

Well, I think you should go and schmooze while you've got a moment.

-Off you go, woman!

-Definitely.

Take your drink and off you go!

They don't hang around, these artsy people. THEY LAUGH

Shoo! See you later.

The official opening day of the Biennale has finally arrived

and while the emerging artists

put the final touches to their exhibition,

I'm heading out to the Giardini -

the grand park where the Biennale was born.

I think any emerging artist has real difficulty in getting

their work shown in Venice.

It's been running since 1895.

Used to be a rather narrow group of artists

and countries that were represented.

If you go to the Giardini,

you see all those countries that built pavilions in the 1920s, '30s.

The big country pavilions tend to promote artists who are quite well

known within their own country, so it's very, very competitive.

The official British Pavilion is this year represented by

celebrated artist, Phyllida Barlow, who has filled every inch

with her trademark monumental, yet playful sculptures.

But the pavilion drawing big queues,

and even bigger celebrity names belongs to Mark Bradford,

who's representing the United States of America

but using his pavilion to question the state of America.

The exterior has become a rubbish strewn ruin.

Inside, ceilings collapse and walls decay.

His abstract paintings draw from his disadvantaged upbringing in

downtown Los Angeles, incorporating discarded paper,

rubbish and waste collected from the streets he grew up in.

One thing you do very well and has become part of your signature

is moving the marginalised to centre stage,

putting them in the spotlight.

-Has that always been part of your mission, part of your journey?

-Yes.

That's what it means.

I wasn't exactly born on the margin,

but somewhere very early they put me on the margin for being different.

I didn't even understand what that was.

I didn't understand what that meant.

But they said, "People like you, sissy, the sissy boy,

"people like you, you belong on the margin,

"which means there's little, there's less help and support for you,

"so you're going to have to figure it out,

"and if something happens to you, that's just...

"You know, good luck with that."

And I got that message real early.

And I never asked for it.

Just like the colour of your skin and someone makes

a racial slur, you're just you.

But I think I always thought that that was not fair.

Since gaining success as an artist,

Mark has used his profile to launch Art + Practice,

a Los Angeles-based scheme for young people coming out of foster care

which uses art and creative engagement as tools

to enable social change.

Did you find keeping art within, contemporary art

within the community, did it transform lives in the way that art

has transformed your life? Did you have to...?

Well, they are definitely part of the debate.

I mean, I like when I have a show and it's all black artists.

There's no figuration.

Some people walk in and go, "Well, this is not black art."

I say, "Well, yes, it is. He's black. And that's black art."

I never had a problem being black.

I was just so surprised how everything,

everybody wanted to reduce it down to like, One Channel or Two Channel.

I was like, "Well, how come we don't have 15 channels like everybody else?"

We're messy and as complicated as anybody else.

When I decided to be an abstract painter

it's because I needed to have, to create a space for me

to interrogate ideas without people tell me who I was.

"OK, you're gay, let's talk about being gay and it looks like this."

"Oh, you're black or you're from..." Well, I said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa.

"I'll tell YOU what it means to me."

-Has profile and success allowed you to do that?

-No!

It's just me slowly gaining my voice.

I mean, right now it's just having conversations.

I think that vulnerability at this moment in time

can bring people together.

We've got to come out of being so cool, you know.

IMITATES SUCKING IN SHARPLY ON A CIGARETTE AND BLOWING OUT

It's just not the moment for cool.

Stop being so cool. This is the moment for talking.

Talking with each other, about our fears.

Because we're all a little nervous right now.

So if you're not a little nervous, what's wrong with you, girl?

-SHE LAUGHS

-Do you know? That's just how I feel.

The conversation at the heart of this year's Biennale is

how to open up the art world.

Can this really be called the Olympics of art

when only six out of 54 African nations have taken part?

But today a seventh arrives and I'm taking Khadija for a tour.

Now we're on our way to the Nigerian Pavilion.

It's their debut as well as yours.

-How excited are you about seeing this stuff?

-It's a blessing, really.

It's all... It's like the reason why I'm here.

It's not just my thing, but it's a thing of culture and the fact

that all our voices are being heard.

The exhibition How About Now is a group show,

reflecting the complexities of modern day Nigeria.

The central exhibit is a new sculpture entitled

Flying Girls by Peju Alatise.

Flying Girls was inspired by the encounter I had in a friend's

house where she had an underage domestic servant,

who took care of her kids

that were about the same age as this child.

She washed, she cooked, she cleaned.

She told me she was happy and she called this woman "Mummy".

So I have this child that I'm talking to who thinks it's fantastic

to be a housekeeper at the age of nine.

There are many children that go through the abuse.

There are many children that are married off,

and to a great extent it's legal in Nigeria.

What I'm trying to do is reflect my experiences and reflect the world.

RECORDING OF GIRLS SINGING RHYMES

No one African country is the same.

And so it's really important

for as many African countries as possible

to be here to tell their own story, the way they know how to do it best.

Otherwise, you know, it gets lost in translation by somebody else

who doesn't understand where you're from.

And I'm hoping that through our presence here,

more African countries feel the need and the urge to be here as well.

So, Khadija, what impact has seeing something like the Nigerian Pavilion had on you?

It was really emotional. I found coming here,

coming here seeing a West African country,

because I'm from Gambia, and seeing these amazing works,

and specifically the work of Peju,

really evoked a very visceral reaction.

When I saw the work, I just saw my mum. I saw her when she was younger.

You're saying, this is what's happening in Nigeria.

These are the different stories and I'm going to present them.

And take it as you wish.

I'm really excited by it and I'm hoping one day, you know,

-Gambia can have a pavilion.

-That would be amazing, yes.

Seems like you've already done your job! THEY ALL LAUGH

In a few hours, the Diaspora Pavilion will open its doors

to the press and the installers are finished in the nick of time.

The exhibition stretches across 12 rooms, packed with sculpture...

..paintings, and installations from the emerging artists.

Showing alongside them are pieces by acclaimed artists like

Sokari Douglas Camp, Isaac Julien and Yinka Shonibare,

who over the next year are involved in mentorship roles.

Yinka's piece, The British Library,

is made up of thousands of books displaying the names of

British figures with diverse heritage

as well as those who have opposed immigration.

Though my parents are Nigerian,

I grew up in London and also in Nigeria and

so the work is an expression of my own history and identity.

You know, talent is not based on where you're from

or what your background is,

the art world should reflect the society that we live in and

I'm hoping that with an exhibition like this, people will become

more aware and provide that platform for the younger generations.

Now, you're here as an established artist,

but also a mentor of emerging artists.

How important and significant do you think this experience is for them?

I've been mentoring an artist called Kimathi Donkar.

We've had some great conversations

and we will be having further meetings.

So the mentoring doesn't actually stop at the exhibition.

It does continue for about a whole year.

It's very important to pass on the baton, you know,

otherwise the whole contemporary art will just die out.

If you want to discover emerging talent in Venice,

you have to explore unusual venues in out of the way spots.

Abbas is figuring out the next step for his art,

so he's heading out to find inspiration.

I mean, the question of how,

you know, an artist emerges and how an artist becomes visible,

I think there isn't really, you know, a recipe.

You know, "Etonne-moi" - surprise me.

And I think this idea, you know, it's always very difficult,

because art always changes.

But I think that's what one could say, you know, "Surprise us!"

First stop is the Iraqi Pavilion in an old disused library

where contemporary art from Iraq is laid out

alongside ancient artefacts from the Museum of Baghdad.

I love the use of the space here.

It's been put together really well.

And the fact that we're in a library speaks a lot to me

because all the books have gone, it's empty,

and it kind of has a resonance for the kind of situation that Iraq is in at the moment.

Next up are art provocateurs, Iceland.

This year represented by two giant trolls called Ugh and Boogar.

All I know at this stage is trolls.

But it could be anything, really so, who knows?

Hi. Would you like a coffee?

Yes, please, can I have an espresso?

Yes, sure. Here's your coffee.

I'm hungry!

I met those trolls in 2008

and its two of them, Ugh and Boogar.

They're 36 metres tall.

They've been living in Iceland for a long time in this gigantic cave.

And up to now they've just been eating badly behaved children

on Christmas.

BREAKS WIND

Did you just fart?

Yes. I always do when I eat Americans.

They're so full of sugar!

I've met Abbas for the final stop on his tour -

the Scottish Pavilion inside a consecrated church.

It's a twisted take on Pinocchio,

created by and starring artist Rachel Maclean,

whose films have divided critics but made her

a rising star of British art.

The only way out is up.

And it's not heaven.

It's a new world.

Truth - I pick.

I kind of came upon the idea of Pinocchio when I was in

Venice and a lot of my work uses fairy tales as

a kind of basis for talking about things

which are politically current.

And it was shortly after Brexit and shortly after Trump

got in in America and a lot of it from me

was kind of processing that and feeling that, you know,

it was a scary time and in many ways

a disturbing time, but an interesting time to be an artist.

You've seen three pavilions today. Has it been insightful?

It's been crazy! But good. Very good.

I mean in terms of my own work, so much of what I've been doing

has been off the radar, quite independent.

And so, just to be here and to see people in

a contemporary way redefining the notion of the space for art

and where my practice fits into that.

So that's kind of what I'm kind of trying to work out at the moment.

A lot of ideas to go back with and I love being here.

And I hope to come back now more often.

It's my first time, but not the last time, I hope.

It's time to head back for the moment of truth.

The Diaspora Pavilion is opening its doors and the art world

has turned out in force to see Sir Nicholas Serota

give the opening speech.

We're really, really thrilled to see so many people here for really what

I think is a very, very important exhibition.

British talent is really, really rich

and we need to make sure that we find ways of showing it.

And this project does that, I think, in the most remarkable way.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

I can't believe that from

a small idea and a conversation ten years ago

that this has finally happened!

And there's a real buzz across the city.

Curators are coming up to me from Canada, from America saying,

"Who is that guy?" "This is brilliant."

This is an incredible exhibition.

It's a great new pavilion,

and a very urgent pavilion for... for Venice.

But of course for me, particularly exciting

to meet emerging artists whom I haven't met before,

so it's also a great discovery.

The exhibition is open and it's officially a hit,

with people queueing just to get in.

People are calling us the whole ticket.

And, you know, I mean...

Look around you - there's masses of people!

This has now become the number one pavilion to see at Venice.

So for them to have that kind of recognition,

they must be inspired, they must gain confidence from that.

The hard work has paid off and all that's left is for the

artists to relax and enjoy being the toast of Venice.

It's opened up a lot of opportunities,

but ultimately, I'm happy.

I'm happy that the work has a presence.

A new audience. And the experience here has been great.

You said that you wanted to celebrate these characters,

to give them their parade. Do you feel you've done that now?

I think I've achieved that.

I mean, look at them. They are powerful.

They're making a statement.

And hopefully, even though I'll remove the work,

it will stay within the minds of the viewer.

It's meant to. So, that's the legacy to the work.

So, from Hackney, your saffron beer has finally has finally made to Venice.

-I want to taste it.

-OK.

-SHE LAUGHS

-What's the response been like here?

-I think it's been great.

I haven't had a chance to talk to everyone, but I hope they like it.

I'm curious to see who helps themselves. It's quite ambiguous.

My face is on the bottle, so if anyone needs to ask,

they should be able to find me.

-It was worth the journey. It's lovely.

-Thank you.

Considering the big names that are in town,

people are queueing to see you guys.

That must be quite a big...

It's amazing when people come up to you,

and people that I don't know just saying,

"It's amazing. Are you happy with the work?"

It feels really good. My heart is so full. It's just amazing.

Not to overwhelm you even more but we've heard there's huge interest in

your work, someone thinking of buying the whole collection.

I've heard. And I... Can you say that again for me?

THEY LAUGH

Because it feels really good to hear.

It made me slightly teary having got to know you.

Well, I heard it, I was like, "Oh, no, the waterworks are coming..."

So the Khadija heading back to West London, what's she like?

She's an artist at the Biennale.

That's who she is and I can say that proudly.

I'm really proud of you.

We're the number one pavilion to see at Venice.

We're the hottest tickets.

Your journey can only get better and better. Well done!

CHEERING

Khadija came back from Venice

and had several weeks of nonstop meetings with museum directors.

She was getting e-mails from people asking her to go to New York.

She said, "This is all my dreams come true."

She was absolutely delighted.

From the moment I met Khadija,

she was very articulate about the particular

issues for growing up in a low-income ethnic minority home.

Events and funds are already being set up in her name.

She would be very proud that other people in the future might

be able to be helped in the way that she was helped

and that is an incredible legacy for Khadijah.

So it's Khadijah the emerging artist that's heading to Venice.

Years down the line,

what will Khadija the professional photographer be doing?

I'd like to say the same thing.

Like, whether it's now or in ten years down the line,

I want to make sure that I'm staying true to myself.

And this idea of opening doors, how previous artists of colour have

opened the doors, I'd like to think I have the potential to do the same.

Going to an art gallery or going to a museum,

it's not really a diverse crowd.

It's very much you count the amount of people that are black

or people of colour in the room.

This step of being in Venice is a way of crossing that bridge.

If I can do it, then all my friends can do it.

As they say, if you don't see yourself represented,

then you don't think you can do it.

It's this idea of, like, opening the door for others

for the next generation.

For me, she came to personify

the whole point of having a Diaspora Pavilion.

I hope and think that her story

will inspire many other young women

living in modest circumstances across the country

to really believe that they can achieve, and they can do it.

What the art world can do now is recognise that there are many,

many more Khadijas.

And what they need is action.

Real action. And if you're moved by Khadija's story,

the time has come to step up.

It's this idea that I'm visible, which is

a big thing because a lot of the time people make art

and no-one gets to see it all - it's hidden under the bed,

or it's such a personal thing.

So the fact I can say I'm actually visible, you can actually see it

at a specific location

is a very real thing, and very validating as well.

It's something I don't take for granted.