Marta Barina and Chiara Carrera: A City After Dark
Chiara Carrera and Marta Barina
“Venice Biennale Portrait” is a series of interviews conceived and conducted by Mara Sartore, introducing some of the most anticipated figures in the contemporary art scene on the occasion of the 61st International Art Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia. The series began before the inauguration of “In Minor Keys” under the title “Awaiting Venice Biennale 2026”. In both its phases, collectors, curators, artists, and directors engage in conversations exploring their roles, upcoming projects, and their relationship with Venice.
In Venice, a city often described as a place of conservation, the project “If All Time Is Eternally Present” chooses to interrogate the present. Realised as a Collateral Event of the 61st International Art Exhibition, the project promoted by the Pier Luigi Nervi Foundation transforms for one month the façade of Palazzo Nervi Scattolin into a public projection space, accompanied by a sound intervention and a bench designed specifically for the site.
Curated by Marta Barina and Chiara Carrera, the project brings together works by Kandis Williams, Meriem Bennani & Orian Barki, and Tai Shani, setting the legacy of Pier Luigi Nervi in dialogue with some of the most compelling voices in international contemporary art. But the exhibition is also the result of a long process of negotiation with the city and its institutions, becoming an opportunity to reflect on the relationship between art, architecture, and public space.
We spoke with the two curators, retracing the genesis of the project, the challenges encountered along the way, and the possibilities that Venice continues to offer to those who try to imagine new ways of inhabiting and activating the city.
MS – For one month, “If All Time Is Eternally Present” transformed the façade of Palazzo Nervi Scattolin into a public space dedicated to video art, accompanied by a sound intervention and a bench designed for the site. How did this project come about, and how did the collaboration with the Pier Luigi Nervi Foundation develop?
MB – The project stems from a reflection on the legacy of Pier Luigi Nervi. When the Foundation first approached us, there was neither an exhibition space nor a defined format. The challenge was to build a project capable of setting architecture and contemporary art in dialogue. From the very beginning, we wanted to think of it as an exhibition rather than an event: an experience capable of lasting over time and extending beyond the works themselves through sound, the catalogue, and the bench designed for the public space. Chiara and I worked from complementary perspectives – contemporary art and architectural history – and it was precisely from this encounter that the project took shape.
CC – The choice of Palazzo Nervi Scattolin was central. It is one of the rarest examples of twentieth-century architecture in Venice and still generates debate today. That is precisely why it interested us: it represents the idea that change can happen without breaking the dialogue with the city. The project grew out of a desire to reflect on discontinuities capable of generating new continuities and, at the same time, to demonstrate that another way of making culture in Venice is possible.
MS – So the artists came after the building had been chosen?
CC – Yes. The building was already a very strong content in itself. The challenge was to build an exhibition capable of enhancing it without overshadowing it. Even the title grew from this reflection: bringing into relation Nervi’s twentieth century, our present, and the artists’ gaze toward the future.
MB – We were interested in recovering the idea of Venice as a laboratory of innovation and cultural production, not merely as a city of conservation. That is why we involved artists from different geographical and cultural contexts, united by their ability to critically read the present through multidisciplinary practices. In this sense there is a parallel with Nervi, who in the 1970s introduced a radically contemporary vision to Venice. Hence the title “If All Time Is Eternally Present”: the idea that past and present can enter into dialogue, making historical legacy an active tool for questioning our own time.
MS – “If All Time Is Eternally Present” is a title that fits Venice perfectly. What is its origin?
CC – The title comes from a line in T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”. It arrived when we felt the need for a phrase capable of holding together the complexity of the project. Venice is a palimpsest city, in which different eras and imaginaries coexist simultaneously. We wanted to reflect on how every work and every piece of architecture is an expression of its own present, and on what happens when these different “presents” enter into dialogue. The projection on the façade was born precisely from this idea. We did not want to cover the building, but to establish a temporary relationship between image and architecture, allowing the viewer to oscillate continuously between the two.
MS – Venice places many restrictions on interventions in public space. In your case it was not only an installation, but also an evening use of the space. What were the main obstacles?
MB – The project’s complexity was always part of our interest. The obstacles were numerous: the absence of a venue, the need to build a network of partners, and a lengthy authorisation process. The Foundation’s role was above all a strategic one. Together we worked to create the conditions that would make the project possible and to involve all the necessary parties, from the building’s owners to the city’s institutions. One of the most significant steps was gaining entry into the Biennale’s Collateral Events programme. The exhibition was not conceived with that goal in mind, but it became an indispensable step in order to move forward. After that came the fundraising phase, which allowed us to consolidate the project and preserve our curatorial autonomy.
MS – Today the projections end at eleven o’clock at night. Was that always planned?
MB – No. Initially we would have liked them to run later, but it was not possible. In a sense, eleven o’clock still represents a symbolic limit for Venice. Once we obtained authorisation for the projections, we continued to develop the project in stages. The bench, for example, came later, as did the lighting and sound system.
MS – Why was sound so important?
MB – Because we did not want the audience simply to watch a projection. We wanted to create the conditions for a genuine experience of engagement. The works vary considerably in length and have a strong sonic component. That is why the bench became essential: it offered the possibility of lingering, listening, and spending time with the works. The other interventions are also part of the exhibition. The bench was made by The Swedish Girls, while the lighting was developed by XAARCHIVE, and the exhibition visual identity, which includes the tower in Campo Manin and the catalogue, is designed by Sebastiano Campoccia.
MS – After almost two years of work, what was the most difficult moment?
CC – Probably the emotional dimension. For almost two years we sustained a project that fell outside the usual frameworks, constantly trying to convince different interlocutors of its necessity. The question of the night was emblematic. Arguing that Venice needs public spaces that remain active in the evening hours was a long and often exhausting process. The same goes for the bench. It might seem like a minor element, but in reality it means asserting the possibility of lingering in public space without being obliged to consume. From the moment it was installed, it was immediately adopted by residents and visitors alike. More than anything else, it was the resistance required to defend this vision that truly tested us.
MB – For me the most delicate moment came when the duration of the exhibition was called into question. At a certain point, the possibility arose of reducing the project from five weeks to just a few days. That would have undermined the very meaning of the work. From the very beginning we had imagined an exhibition capable of entering into a relationship with the city and its inhabitants over time – not a simple event. In the end we managed to preserve the original approach, but it was probably the most complex passage in the entire process.
CC – In general, we worked for almost two years in a condition of constant uncertainty. Many confirmations arrived only a few months before the opening. When a project depends on so many different actors, one often has the sense that everything could change from one moment to the next. Understanding the dynamics between institutions, private ownership, and the authorisation system while the project was already underway made the journey even more demanding.
MS – This opens a broader question. Would a project like this have been easier to realise in another European city? And why does Venice seem to resist so many initiatives that aim to restore quality and continuity to public space?
CC – I am not actually sure it would have been simpler elsewhere. Venice has a particular quality: there is an enormous distance between its real and its symbolic dimensions. It is a physically small city but a culturally gigantic one. This tension produces contradictions, but it also generates opportunities. I have often wondered whether in a much larger city like Berlin it would have been possible to engage so many institutional interlocutors in a relatively short time. Precisely because Venice is a compact city, the distance between an idea and the possibility of attempting to realise it is sometimes shorter. This does not mean it is easy. It does mean, however, that there is still a sense that a project can have a concrete impact on the context in which it is born. And that is perhaps why we continue to want to work here.
MS – Yet it is hard to imagine that in cities like Berlin or Barcelona the projections would have been limited to eleven o’clock at night. Perhaps Venice facilitates certain aspects – I am thinking of its international appeal and the possibility of involving sponsors and cultural partners – but the sheer number of obstacles you encountered is still striking.
MB – Part of the answer has to do with the nature of the city itself. Venice is extremely compact: everything happens in close proximity to residential buildings, and every intervention immediately enters into relation with the daily lives of its inhabitants. There is also an economic dimension that is often underestimated. Unlike an exhibition hosted in a traditional venue, here many costs accumulate day by day: public land use fees, permits, technical equipment, use of the façade. Every temporal extension means a significant increase in the budget. Rather than comparing Venice to other cities, I think it is more interesting to observe how every intervention in public space here inevitably confronts an extraordinary urban and symbolic density.
MS – The bench, though, was very well received, I imagine.
MB – Absolutely. It is probably the element that received the most immediate and spontaneous response. It quickly became part of the life of the campo. Perhaps that is one of the most interesting lessons of this project: in Venice, every intervention, however small, immediately enters into relation with the city and with those who inhabit it.
MS – Have you imagined this project being replicated elsewhere together with the Pier Luigi Nervi Foundation?
MB – More than a format, we have tried to build a method. In this case the language of projection grew out of the specific characteristics of Palazzo Nervi Scattolin, but every building suggests different possibilities. The underlying idea of “Building Dialogue” is to let the architecture itself generate the exhibition format. Should the project develop in other locations in the future, it will always depart from the identity and history of each individual building.