The Teaching Tree

Photo taken from Saudi Biennale website.

There's a handful of nations whose approach to the Biennale often leaves me cold.
Often, rather than offering their artists the chance to reach out, their pavilions feel like they would be better suited to an expo rather than an art fair.
While they're busy using their spaces to pitch just how wonderful their countries are - at the expense of giving a local artist a chance to pursue an idea - the exercise often winds up as a failed attempt at winning over hearts and minds.
I don't need to be dazzled by the technology a country has at its disposal.
I won't be swayed by the private collection of some oil magnate that's being put on show. I'd rather your organising committee commissioned a set of childrens' drawings at that point.
So imagine my utter surprise this year, as I walked out of the Saudi Arabian pavilion, completely blown away.

Could it be that all the talk of Saudi society slowly opening up is really happening?
Who can say?
But for the first time that I can remember, I left the pavilion with that lovely feeling that only ambiguity can bring. Instead of being handed answers to questions I had no interest in asking, I was being engaged with both heart and mind.
With The Teaching Tree, artist Muhannad Shono seems to be prepared to play with visitors; to challenge them, but also himself.
There's a huge mass that runs through the middle of the pavilion. You instinctively know what it is made of, but it doesn't look right.
Just being in its proximity basically whisks you away to the great big dry that separates the Mediterranean and the Gulf. But you've been whisked away into the night and the forms you know have taken on a more shadowy existence. They're at arms reach but they don't look or stand in the way you expect them to, and their movements are their own..
Shono is a multidisciplinary artist, who has done everything from graphic novels through to large scale installations in the deserts.
With The Teaching Tree, he takes from nature but adds both human and technological touches to it.
Countless palm fronds are assembled, each hand painted. Collectively, they're hooked up to a machine which has them move and react at intervals, lazily mimicking their natural patterns and movements.
For the artist, the work could be an exploration of line and form. But for mere visitors, it's a puzzle of sorts; a riddle with few clues and no contextual help on hand.
In Italian, still life is known as natura morta. This doesn't feel far from nature on life support, and yet, after a few hours of traipsing around the grounds of Arsenale on a hot day, The Teaching Tree is refreshing and reinvigorating, even if it will leave you stewing for days.
PRACTICALS
You'll need a ticket to Arsenale to see this exhibition.
Artist: Muhannad Shono
Curator; Reem Fadda
The Saudi biennale website is here.