After a thought-provoking 2015 Venice Biennale piece at Iceland's pavilion, where he controversially converted a historic church into a fully functioning mosque—an art exhibition marred by its abrupt closure by government officials after only two weeks—the Swiss-Icelandic artist Christoph Büchel returns to Venice with Monte Di Pietà, a work of ambitious scale and in tune with Adriano Pedrosa's 60th Venice Art Biennale 2024, Foreigners Everywhere (both on view until November 24, 2024). The site-specific exhibition, running concurrently with the Biennale, starts its narrative immediately from the facade of the Fondazione Prada, where the entrance to the Ca' Corner della Regina is adorned with red and yellow cardboard posters featuring the words "Liquidazione Totale. Fuori Tutto. Fuori Tutto" (Complete liquidation. Everything must go. Everything must go) and "Queen of Pawn". The exterior dressed up like a kitsch shop going out of business confronts us with the way we conceive value. Entering the art gallery I feel like I am entering a junk shop, not a palace.

Büchel’s work engages with the site's characteristic features, creating an immersive environment overflowing with objects. The exhibition is in direct conversation with the building’s past and present. For starters, this is where the ruins of the Gothic palazzo lie, in which Caterina Corner (or Cornaro), the Queen of Cyprus, was born in 1454. In its subsequent lives, Ca’ Corner has been home to Venetian merchants. More recently, it hosted the Monte di Pietà (translated to Mount of Piety)—a charitable institutional pawnbroker originating in the 15^th century Italy, providing reasonable interest loans to the poor using funds from charitable donors, with similar institutions still operating in various Catholic countries—from 1834 to 1969. This is the inspiration behind the exhibition’s title and Büchel's creative framework for reconstructing an articulated network of spatial, economic and cultural references embedded in Venice's past. The exhibition design exemplifies Monte di Pieta's deep dive into the notion of debt, rooted deeply in human society and as the primary vehicle by which political and cultural power is constructed.

My friends accompanied me while visiting the show, wandering through the main entrance area where an auction-like setting with seats overlooking a wooden table structure is laid out juxtaposed with hospital beds, old and new artefacts, religious iconography in the background—including a Titian on loan from the Uffizi—and each of us had different experiences and reactions to the multitude of objects surrounding us. Noting our astonishment at how Büchel brought all these seemingly disparate objects together, a member of staff reminded us that most of the objects on display were bought specifically for the exhibition, rather than being loaned or found, a fact that emphasises the importance of value and debt in his work. This makes the exhibition more evocative and challenging for the spectator. As American sociologist Sherry Turkle says in the book Evocative Objects: Things We Think With (2007), "We find it familiar to consider objects as useful or aesthetic, as necessities or vain indulgences. We are on less familiar ground when we consider objects as companions to our emotional lives or provocations to thought. The notion of evocative objects brings together these two less familiar ideas, underscoring the inseparability of thought and feeling in our relationship with things. We think with objects we love; we love the objects we think with."

But what happens to the objects that are discarded? There is familiarity all around in this exhibition, yet some placements of things are out of context. Hanging on the walls, on the floor, just accumulated. …There is so much dust, so many things, even ​​wheelchairs fixed to the ceiling in the chapel-like room. There is a juxtaposition within the setting: the contemporary wheelchairs against the Renaissance architecture, somehow implying that the Church neglects the poor, even today. The exhibition is morbid, nostalgic and humorous in a candid way. It makes me think of my own experience with grief and the remnants I was left with after my father's death over 15 years ago. The experience is cathartic but also goes beyond my memory.

Büchel fills every corner of the palazzo with objects, but in a thought-provoking way, creating structure yet leaving room for ambiguity. I hesitated at first to go out to the courtyard, where there were dozens of rusty bicycles, which stood in stark contrast to the clean smell and brightness of the hanging clothes above us, reaching up to the sky. The space between the ground floor, the mezzanine and the second floor is converted into a failing pawnshop based on the history of the palace where debtors offered valuables as collateral. In this context, Büchel's work The Diamond Maker (2020-ongoing), a suitcase containing lab-grown diamonds, is on view. The physical and symbolic process of destruction and transformation is at play here, as these diamonds have been made out of the artist's entire body of artworks in his possession, including those from his youth and childhood and those yet to be created (the reason why the work is ongoing). Büchel works with the company ALGORDANZA AG in Switzerland, which produces memorial diamonds globally, also known as "ash diamonds", created from a human's cremated remains. The artist uses ashes from burned artworks and keeps certificates of authenticity in the suitcase as a reference point. This transformation of personal artefacts into diamonds is a wonder to behold, leaving one questioning what is natural, valuable or artificial in this context.

Upstairs, two rooms are entirely dedicated to NFTs, cryptocurrency and hackers. There is a sophisticated setup with a blend of historical elegance and modern technology in an ornately decorated room with a foreground dominated by a complex array of filming equipment likely used for broadcasting. Here, Büchel has launched a new cryptocurrency called Schei, designed to spark speculation through a fictitious influencer account on TikTok, where profits that are generated will be redistributed among the residents of Venice. There are so many screens, so much to take in. One gallery appears to be dedicated to live feeds of Jerusalem, Gaza and the border between Israel and Lebanon. In another, Büchel is showing CCTV footage that purports to be coming in from Kyiv, Dnipro and other Ukrainian cities. The artist doesn't take a stance on these conflicts, perhaps on purpose, which makes the presentation of these images both ambiguous and uncomfortable.

There is an apparent aesthetic choice in highlighting how current wars and surveillance are revealing the disenfranchisement of the public. The central room is a striking blend of opulence and informality set within a Venetian context. The most prominent features are the long dining table set with the remains of a meal, indicating its recent use for a communal gathering, contrasted by multiple beds arranged around the room. The dining table is at the centre adorned with a white tablecloth and scattered with plates, bottles and remnants of food, reminding me of The Last Supper. The next room is a cosy, nostalgic pub setting that reflects a blend of eclectic materiality and memory. The setting is intimate, with a small bar area featuring shelves lined with various bottles of alcohol and decorative items, including a string of international currency notes, adding a global touch. Vintage posters, postcards and photos adorn the walls and shelves, evoking a sense of personal history and collective memory. The installation isn’t complete without a staircase leading up to a small room dedicated to sex work. This room exudes a provocative and intimate atmosphere, with its vivid red lighting casting a sultry glow over the entire space. The red hue dominates, creating a sense of warmth and eroticism that envelops anyone who enters. The pole is a focal point, reflecting the red light and adding a metallic sheen to the room's ambience.

There is a constant dichotomy between the settings in the exhibition and the value aspect of its surroundings. From the garish hoardings plastered over the entrance to the parasitic assemblage of objects huddled like squatters threatening almost to reach out and eject the onlooker from every room, Büchel imbues debt with an intrusive physical presence that seamlessly connects the past of Monte de Pietà with the future of NFTs, 24/7 news culture and ongoing wars. The religious and medical allusions position debt as a kind of spiritual possession or generational sickness; but one which is as much caused and maintained by those seeking to treat it.

There is so much more to dig into, to write about, but my desire to describe things is fighting against the necessity to produce a succinct review. I wonder whether there are artists who engage with objects and transform a space quite as much as Büchel does. Obvious candidates include artists like Mike Nelson, Elmgreen & Dragset, Tomoko Takahashi and Mark Dion—but none of them are as inventive, bizarre or politically challenging. One would like to think that museum institutions within the art system play a crucial role in preserving heritage and collections, as well as in attributing symbolic and economic value to various goods and objects. Büchel challenges this notion of value not only in the context of the Venetians but in a more universal format, expanding on the local to a much larger dialogue. I question where all these objects, artworks and just accumulated stuff will go after this exhibition. Does it matter? A few weeks have passed and its haunting effect still resonates with me.

The mandate of the 60th Venice Biennale, which aims to highlight under-represented artists and art histories, aligns with the STIR philosophy of challenging the status quo and presenting powerful perspectives. Explore our series on the Biennale, STIRring 'Everywhere' in Venice, which brings you a curated selection of the burgeoning creative activity in the historic city of Venice, in a range of textual and audiovisual formats.

(Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official position of STIR or its editors.)