Final Thoughts on the Biennale: Yarn, Salt, Pepper, Sludge, and a Shark

I’m writing this on Halloween and hear that the sponsors of the American pavilion at the are going door-to-door wearing tattered sweaters, baggy pants with frayed hems, a battered fedora, and old, scuffed shoes. And carrying a tin cup.

My spies told me a couple of months ago that the American Arts Conservancy, the nonprofit that delivered the modest, snoozy Alma Allen show, an embarrassment for America’s 250th, was deep in the hole, unable to rub two lira together. The New York Times confirmed the other day that the group is a million dollars short and doesn’t have the money to transport Allen’s artwork, all heavy sculpture, from Venice back to the U.S. It’s making a Hail Mary appeal via a letter to prospective donors. The Biennale closes in three weeks. My advice to them is “Don’t waste your money.”

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Brian T. Allen

Brian T. Allen is National Review’s art critic.

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I’m writing this on Halloween and hear that the sponsors of the American pavilion at the are going door-to-door wearing tattered sweaters, baggy pants with frayed hems, a battered fedora, and old, scuffed shoes. And carrying a tin cup.

My spies told me a couple of months ago that the American Arts Conservancy, the nonprofit that delivered the modest, snoozy Alma Allen show, an embarrassment for America’s 250th, was deep in the hole, unable to rub two lira together. The New York Times confirmed the other day that the group is a million dollars short and doesn’t have the money to transport Allen’s artwork, all heavy sculpture, from Venice back to the U.S. It’s making a Hail Mary appeal via a letter to prospective donors. The Biennale closes in three weeks. My advice to them is “Don’t waste your money.”