Descend into the depths of artistic exploration with Rosa Barba’s captivating installation, “Inside the Outset: Evoking a Space of Passage,” featured in the inaugural Malta Biennale. Journey through a labyrinthine cavern, once a medieval cistern turned World War II shelter, now transformed into an immersive art space. Amidst Malta’s rich historical tapestry, contemporary works ignite dialogue on migration, social justice, and cultural identity. Experience the intersection of tradition and innovation in this unprecedented cultural odyssey.
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By James Tarmy
Your quest could hardly be more atmospheric—or sepulchral. To see Inside the Outset: Evoking a Space of Passage, by the Italian artist Rosa Barba, you must first descend through a hole cut into a flagstone sidewalk, then turn on your headlamp and step down a (frankly terrifying) staircase into a pitch-black expanse. ___STEADY_PAYWALL___
Jump over what you hope is a stream of water, walk carefully on a few slick rocks, pass through an ancient archway covered in vines—or are they roots?—and enter a 40-foot-high cavern, where you find … a piece of video art depicting the serene landscape of Cyprus.
Once a medieval cistern, the spot more recently served as an air raid shelter in World War II. Now it’s one of the many adventurous exhibition spaces in the first-ever Malta Biennale, a contemporary art exhibition showcasing very new works in very old places across the tiny island nation.
Smack dab in the middle of the Mediterranean, about an hour and a half’s boat ride south of Sicily, the Maltese islands have no shortage of old things. There are two Caravaggios in the historic St. John’s Co-Cathedral, which sits above the subterranean video art.
A library dates to the rule of the Knights of Malta, which ended in 1798; in the capital, Valletta, fanciful limestone houses and sprawling fortifications have earned it Unesco designation. Two new arts organizations, the Malta Biennale (technically, maltabiennale.art) and the Malta International Contemporary Art Space (Micas), are trying to create an even more appealing mix by adding contemporary art.
The Biennale, an exhibition whose optimism is built into its name (it assumes there will be a second), originated from several government bodies and runs through May 31. Micas, opening in October, has the scale to compete with museums around the world: A new 15,000-square-foot steel-and-glass building will be the centerpiece of a 90,000-square-foot campus that includes a sculpture garden, offices and meeting spaces; set on the edge of old bastion walls, it will present at least three major exhibitions every year.
Together the two arts organizations represent a concerted attempt to enhance Malta’s allure as a cultural destination. What should be an easy touristic sell—the country boasts spectacular history, storybook cities and dramatic citadels, all drenched in daylight so dazzling that sunglasses are more necessity than accessory—has been a surprisingly herculean undertaking.
Malta, you see, isn’t exactly a blank slate. There were centuries of state-sponsored piracy, which is retrospectively dashing but not exactly the stuff of soaring national pride. More recently there’s the ongoing fracas over its Citizenship by Investment program, which began in 2014, where foreigners can buy Maltese passports (and by extension access to the European Union) if they invest roughly €750,000 ($807,000) in the country. The program has raised hundreds of millions in revenue, but its critics, which include the European Commission, call it unacceptable, some linking it to organized crime. Under pressure, other countries have shut similar programs down; Malta continues to resist.
Additionally, the fact that foreign-owned Maltese companies have historically paid one of the lowest tax rates in Europe has led to allegations from EU and UK politicians that the country is a tax haven. And the icing on the cake is its warm regulatory embrace of online gambling. More than 330 such companies are licensed there, according to a 2023 report by the Malta Gaming Authority.
“Malta is often either seen as the island where you go to sit on the beach and drink a piña colada, or you go to launder your money or buy a passport,” says Emma Mattei, a Maltese freelance curator with the Biennale. “I wouldn’t call them misconceptions. They’re not inaccurate, they’re just simplistic.” Malta’s home affairs ministry has said its citizenship program is based on “robust due diligence” to mitigate risks.
The island’s leadership has thrown its weight behind Micas and the Biennale. Malta’s establishment sees “the value in having a space that can further their internationalization,” says Georgina Portelli, a Maltese cultural academic who’s long advocated for Micas and sits on its board. “We are European, yes, but we can have a bigger conversation with the rest of the world, too.”
At the moment, though, Valletta appears mostly in conversation with the past. Even as a forest of cranes hover over developments on the rest of the island, Malta’s capital is frozen in time. Built on a narrow peninsula and flanked by two near-perfect natural harbors, the city is an exquisite example of early urban planning, what Unesco calls “a single, holistic creation of the late Renaissance.” Seen from afar, the city’s skyline is dominated by domes and spires of churches; even more impressive are Valletta’s colossal fortifications, built on seaside cliffs.
It’s within these graceful buildings, imposing forts and elegant palaces that organizers of the Malta Biennale have chosen to situate their contemporary art. The result is surprisingly effective, with installations that make the historical sites come alive. Audacious, if occasionally over-earnest, paintings, sculptures and videos grapple with geopolitical problems. Several were made exclusively for the exhibition—or even completed live in front of audiences—and are set everywhere from the 450-year-old Grand Master’s Palace to grain silos on the nearby island of Gozo.
A sound installation by the Albanian artist Ana Shametaj plays lullabies in the armory, which is filled with muskets, cannons and armor. A installation of concrete casts of tombstones by Ghanaian artist Ibrahim Mahama sits alongside the Ä gantija, a monument dating to 3600 B.C.
Several of the Biennale’s artists have chosen to take critical positions toward their host country. A painting by the Italian artist Teresa Antignani explicitly references a report that found at least 49 workers died on building sites from 2010 to 2022, and a performance at Fort St. Elmo by the Italian Sara Leghissa, titled Unborn Celebration, included a poster advocating obliquely for abortion rights in the majority Catholic island. (Divorce was only legalized in 2011.)
“There was an attempt of somehow rebranding Malta,” says Sofia Baldi Pighi, the Biennale’s artistic director and head curator. “But then this is where the role of the artist comes in, to stay strong with their statements and their vision.”
Malta itself is not the only subject. A work by the Cuban artist Tania Bruguera, first conceived in 2012, involved a two-story-high EU flag hung in the Cottonera area of the island. Bruguera assembled a crowd to watch as a graffiti artist spray-painted barbed wire between the stars, then scrawled: “The poor treatment of the migrants today will be our dishonor tomorrow.”
Bruguera, whose work is in the Museum of Modern Art in New York, is probably the most famous artist to participate in the Biennale. “Migration is only working for the rich,” she said as the graffiti artist defaced the flag. “If you have €600,000, you can buy Maltese and therefore European nationality, so what’s the real issue? The migrants, or the way there are different classes of migrants?”
On a visit in March, the Micas building appears half-completed. Steel beams are in place, as are the glazed glass panels that comprise the roof. The project budget is €35 million, a drop in the bucket for most museum projects.
Micas is able to keep costs modest by forgoing a major permanent collection; instead it will house a series of temporary exhibitions, says Artistic Director Edith Devaney. “We see ourselves more as a noncollecting museum, much like the New Museum in New York or the Serpentine in London. It gives us such freedom.”
Micas, in other words, intends to have contemporary art for a contemporary Malta. “When this goes on the map and schedule of something that everyone must do, it will change people’s perception” of Malta, Devaney says. “Because it’s not just this place that’s got wonderful temples and fabulous baroque buildings, and of course the Caravaggios, but there’s this as well.”
It’s a Big Year for Biennials
Temporary art exhibits that happen every two years, known as biennials, are a fixture of the global art world. Intended as a showcase for today’s most interesting art, they’re a must-visit for anyone who wants to know what the rest of the world will be looking at tomorrow.
The Whitney Biennial at the Whitney Museum of American Art
Love it or hate it, America’s most important biennial can’t be ignored. Burdened by the almost impossible remit to present a cross section of American art, this year’s edition, titled “Even Better Than the Real Thing,” is perhaps smaller in scope and less focused on a singular theme than in years past.
There are several standout pieces, including Kiyan Williams’ photogenic sculpture of the north facade of the White House, made from dirt and topped by an upside-down American flag. Like many of the works in the New York City show, it’s not subtle, which is both the draw and the point. Through Aug. 11
The Venice Biennale
The Biennale, as it’s known, is an exhibition in two parts—a deceptively large pavilion inside the Giardini gardens and an even bigger show at the Arsenale, a former shipbuilding factory. This year it will be organized by the Brazilian curator Adriano Pedrosa, who’s set to highlight under-the-radar artists from the Global South.
During the event, Venice becomes a showcase for the world’s contemporary art. Individual countries fill their own pavilions in the Giardini; other countries and foundations rent out ancient palazzos. The canal city’s foundations and museums also put on shows, many years in the making. It’s a cornucopia of culture and always worth a visit. April 20 to Nov. 24
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