US PAVILION 1930

Too cold (it’s Venice in winter: the piazza’s empty, canals choppy, hotels and palaces boarded up, streets sheeted with thin snow, fog drifts in—no, it driving in—from the sea): Keep moving, stomp (don’t let your legs freeze, don’t let your legs freeze…): Slap arms across chest (your body’s cold, your body’s o so cold, so cold…): Make faces, cup hands on face, pull on your ears, your nose, your lips (don’t let your face freeze, don’t let your face freeze…): Wiggle toes, arch feet, bend ankles, bend, now unbend, toes (don’t let your feet freeze, don’t let your feet freeze…): Now bend, now unbend fingers, blow on hands, stuff hands under armpits and inside pants, clench fists (you don’t feel anything, you can’t let your hands freeze, whose hand is this, you shouldn’t have let your hands freeze…)

Too hot (it’s Venice in summer, Venice lives for summer, the colors are sticky, most faces flushed, you can walk everywhere in Venice but don’t run in summer, it’s too hot to run in Venice in summer, and don’t dance in summer in Venice, you sweat too much here in Venice in summer to dance): You’re getting dizzy, your throat’s dry, your skin’s cold and clammy, your pulse’s beating fast, faster… Help me, you say to yourself, but you can’t help yourself, they have to help you, whoever they are, whatever they’re doing, they’re stripping you down to skin and bones... You’re being wrapped in a wet sheet, tight (tighter, don’t let the hot air in)… Now someone you can’t make out is fanning you, you can’t see with what, don’t stop, they should stop only if you vomit, you’re starting to vomit, no you’re not, you say (fan me, fan me)…

Too crowded: (it’s July 25 in Venice, the calendar never fails in Venice and the swallows have vanished and mosquitoes are swarming…): Make a head-net from your undershirt… Wear a wide-brimmed hat, tilt the brim front and back and side to side at different angles… If you find mud, cover your face, arms and legs and upper body with mud (but the streets are water in Venice, you can’t help but find mud)… Too crowded (people, too, are swarming in Venice in summer): When the crowd starts to surge, squirm away from walls, columns (don’t get closed in, don’t be trapped)… Don’t be caught with your hands in your pockets, undo your shirt and take a deep breath… Tense your biceps, your shoulders, your back against pressure… Clasp your arms together in front of your stomach, against your stomach… Lift both feet off the ground so they won’t be trampled… Try to move, o my god you say let me move (but churches stay unfinished, you have only yourself to depend on in Venice…)

OPEN YOUR EYES AND YOU’RE IN I GIARDINI: YOU HAVE A FEELING NOW YOU’RE NOT IN VENICE ANYMORE… YES, THERE’S WATER HERE, AS IN THE REST OF VENICE. BUT THE WATER HERE DOESN’T SPREAD LIKE VEINS AND ARTERIES, IT DOESN’T MAKE A NETWORK OF STREETS—STEETS OF WATER—THROUGH THE CITY. WATER ISN’T IN THE MIDDLE OF THINGS HERE: IT DOESN’T RUSH THROUGH THE LAND BUT FLOWS GENTLY AND DISCREETLY ASIDE, OFF TO ONE SIDE. (it doesn’t make streets of water, it makes only a border) I GIARDINI IS A RAREFIED PLACE: NOT VENICE CRACKED BY WATER, OR VENICE IN MORTAL COMBAT WITH WATER, BUT VENICE THAT ALLOWS FOR WATER LIKE AN EXTRA, LIKE A SPARE, LIKE A SECOND THOUGHT. ELSEWHERE VENETIANS CHOOSE WATER OVER GARDENS: WATER MIGHT BE THEIR NATURE, BUT THAT’S A METAPHYSICAL QUESTION—CONCRETELY AND FACTUALLY, IT’S THEIR HABITAT. VENETIANS LOVE FLOWERS, BUT THEY CAN ALWAYS BUY THEM AT FLORISTS, THEY DON’T HAVE TO GROW THEIR OWN: EITHER VENETIANS HAVE LITTLE FEELING FOR GARDENS, OR THEY HAVE SO MUCH FEELING THAT THEY KEEP THEIR GARDENS FOR THEMSELVES, THEY HIDE THEIR GARDENS INSIDE BUILDINGS, IN INTERIOR COURTYARDS—FROM OUTSIDE YOU CAN SEE THE TOPS OF TREES, BUT YOU CAN’T SUSPECT WHAT’S AT THE BOTTOM OF IT ALL, YOU CAN’T IMAGINE HOW THEIR GARDENS BEGIN ON THE GROUND...

THE REST OF VENICE IS TIGHTLY PACKED: LOOKED AT FROM AFAR AND FROM ABOVE, IT’S ONE VAST HILLOCK, RISING AND FALLING LIKE A SAND-DUNE BUT COMPOSED OF SEPARATE MOLECULES OF BUILDINGS CLOSE TO EACH OTHER BUT DISTINCT, EACH CLIMBING ITS 4-5-6 STORIES WITH DIFFERENT ATTITUDES. CLOSE-UP, THE REST OF VENICE IS A MAZE OF ALLEYS: ALLEY OF THE LOVE OF FRIENDS (YOU HEAR FOOTSTEPS BUT THERE’S NO ONE THERE BUT YOU)… ALLEY OF THE CURLY-HAIRED WOMAN (IT NARROWS DOWN TILL YOU CAN’T FIT INSIDE)… ALLEY OF THOUGHTS (IT ENDS IN A DEAD CANAL)…

INSIDE VENICE, I GIARDINI IS A WORLD APART FROM VENICE: NOT A SCULPTUREPARK BUT A PAVILION-PARK, A PAINTING /SCULPTURE / INSTALLATION / VIDEO/ PERFORMANCE-PARK, A MINI-BUILDINGS-PARK, A MULTI-MUSEUM-PARK. EACH PAVILION HAS A GARDEN OF ITS OWN, BUT THE GARDEN IS MORE OF A LITTLE FOREST—THIS MIGHT BE PURPOSEFUL, OR IT MIGHT BE BECAUSE THE GARDENS ARE LEFT UNINTENDED BETWEEN SUMMERS—EACH SURROUNDING GARDEN OVERGROWS TO INCLUDE, TO CONTAIN, ITS PAVILION. ARCHITECTURE, IF LEFT TO ITS OWN DEVICES, STRETCHES OUT OF ITSELF INTO LANDSCAPE, WHILE ALL THE WHILE LETTING LANDSCAPE IN, INTO AND THROUIGH ITSELF... BUT ART FIGHTS BACK WITH ORDER—HERE, IN I GIARDINI, IN THE FORM OF A WALKWAY SYSTEM THAT GUIDES YOU THROUGH THE FOREST TO AND INTO EACH NATIONAL PAVILION, SEPARATED BY FOREST FROM EVERY OTHER, SEPARATE BUT EQUAL. LIFE IS SHORT BUT COMPLEX, AND ARCHITECTURE, BY INSINUATING ITSELF INTO EVERYDAY LIFE, AND INVITING EVERYDAY LIVING INTO ITSELF, IS FORCED TO DEAL WITH THAT COMPLEXITY; ART, ON THE OTHER HAND, IS LONG BUT OVER-SIMPLIFIED—IT HAS TO BE, BECAUSE IT CAN NEVER LOSE, OR FORGET, OR GIVE UP, ITS OLD HABITS (OR AT LEAST REMINISCENCES) OF FRAME (LIMITS) AND PEDESTAL (SUPPORT). ONE ART PIECE HAS TO BE SEPARATE FROM BUT UN-EQUAL TO EVERY OTHER: AS ITS PRICE IS DISTINGUISHED FROM AND HIGHER THAN THE PRICE OF ANOTHER, SO IS ITS (NON-MONETARY WORTH) AND POSSIBLY ITS INFLUENCE…

separate but equal, equal but separate: while thomas jefferson was president, he put the limit on his own federal government’s authority, and he came out on the side of states’ rights— “there’s nothing wrong with a little rebellion now and then,” he whispered, “ if you don’t like what the government’s doing, secede from the union”… (and now ray charles comes in, from the other side, 150 years after jefferson’s death—come in, ray—come on in, ray… wait a minute wait a minute oh hold it hold it hold it /hey [hey] ho [ho] hey [hey] ho [ho] hey [hey] ho [ho] hey/oh one more time [ just one more time] say it one more time right now [ just one more time]…)

not equal but not separate either: in 1787 sally hemings, a 14-year-old bi-racial slave, accompanied jefferson’s youngest daughter to rejoin her father in paris—in her two years there, she and jefferson might have begun sexual relations, which they might have continued for 38 years, during which they might have had 6 children together … unlike his practice of recording births of other slaves, jefferson didn’t note the father of sally’s children—after jefferson’s death, his will freed sally’s children—his daughter martha freed sally… (and now here comes leadbelly, bringing up the rear, it’s never too late to join the show, you’re never too dead to join the show—join in, leadbelly… black betty, black betty [bam-de-lam)/black betty, black betty [bam-de-lam] / black betty had a baby [bam-de-lam]/little thing went crazy [bam-de-lam]/ little thing’s gone blind [bam-de-lam] / little thing’s gone blind [bam-de-lam] / little thing’s gone blind little thing’s gone blind little thing’s gone blind…)

separate but not equal: as president, jefferson put up a bill that abolished slavery… (now little richard comes in: jenny jenny jenny/spinnin’ like a spinnin’ top/jenny jenny, jenny jenny…) at the same time he thought blacks were inferior to whites … (spinnin’ spinning’ spinnin’ / spinnin’ like a spinnin’ top / spinnin’ spinnin,’ spinnin’ spinnin’…) he was anti-bi-racial… (spinnin’ spinnin’ spinnin’ spinnin’…) he supported individual rights, he was against the “tyranny of the majority”… (spinnin’ spinnin’ spinnin’ spinnin’ spinnin’ spinnin’…) but he asked native americans to give up their native culture, he was against women’s rights because women are dependent on men… (jenny jenny jenny jenny jenny jenny jenny…)

THOMAS JEFFERSON INVENTED: A DUMBWAITER WITH PIVOTING SHELVES—AN OPENING FROM HIS BED TO HIS CABINET & DRESSING-ROOM—PORTABLE WRITINGDESK—CLOCK WITH A LARGE COPPER GONG POWERED BY EARTH’S GRAVITATIONAL PULL ON REVOLUTIONARY WAR CANNONBALLS—FOLDING LADDER—INTERCHANGEABLE PARTS FOR FIREARMS—PLOW WITH RIGHT-ANGLED FRONT FOR SCOOPING—MACARONI-EXTRUDING MACHINE—REVOLVING CHAIR WITH LEG-REST&WRITINGARM—AUTOMATIC DOUBLE-DOORS THAT BOTH MOVE WHEN ONE IS OPEN OR CLOSED—REVOLVING BOOKSTAND FOR 5 BOOKS AT ONCE—HIDEAWAY BED—POLYGRAPH (2 CONNECTED PENS FOR MAKING COPIES)—SUN-DIAL (A GLOBE AS THE DIAL)—METRICAL DECIMAL-SYSTEM (U.S. WOULD HAVE BEEN THE FIRST)—A BIBLE THAT EXCLUDES THE MYSTICAL&STRESSES THE MATERIAL (JESUS IS NOT GOD BUT JUST A TEACHER, JUST A GOOD TEACHER)…

ALL THE WHILE, AN UNDERGROUND PASSAGE CONNECTED SLAVE-QUARTERS WITH MONTICELLO, JEFFERSON’S HOME (I WANT TO BELIEVE SALLY HEMINGS COULD USE IT WHENEVER SHE WANTED—BUT SHE PROBABLY COULD USE IT ONLY WHEN JEFFERSON LET HER, ONLY WHEN JEFFERSON WANTED HER)… and, ALL THE WHILE, JEFFERSON INVENTED ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER, ONE IMPORTANT THING AFTER ANOTHER, OR ONE TRIVIAL THING AFTER ANOTHER, OR ONE TRIVIAL THING AFTER AN IMPORTANT THING, OR VICE VERSA: FOR EXAMPL,E, A WOOD CIPHER-WHEEL FOR SCRAMBLING MESSAGES (JEFFERSON MUST HAVE KNOWN THAT MESSAGES HAD TO BE SCRAMBLED, BECAUSE AT LEAST SOME OF HIS WERE MEANT FOR SALLY HEMMINGS)… and, ALL THE WHILE, STILL ONE MORE INVENTION FROM JEFFERSON: ROPE-CRADLES FOR A BED BUILT INTO AN ALCOVE, TO AVOID A BED-FRAME (WHO STARTED THE ROCKING SO THE OTHER COULD ROLL, TOM OR SALLY, SALLY OR TOM)… SO THOMAS JEFFERSON INVENTED ALL HE COULD, WHENEVER HE COULD, SO HE COULD FIND A WAY, SO HE COULD MAKE A WAY, TO BE WITH SALLY HEMINGS&WITHOUT SALLY HEMINGS AT ONE &THE SAME TIME...

Delano & Aldrich’s U.S. Pavilion is jefferson’s Monticello on a pedestal: You turn off the central walkway through I Giardini and walk up 2 sets of low double-steps onto an elevated plaza—not high really but at the same time not low anymore, you’re approaching a building but you feel as if you’ve stepped onto a sculpture-stand, the person and (the replica of) his building have become one and the same…The façade protrudes out, outward, forward, on either end, like open arms, like empty arms until you or someone else steps in-between: the building welcomes you, you’re almost already inside while you’re still outside, you’re being taken in… Yes, Monticello is orange, but so is Howard Johnson’s, so are fast-food restaurants modeled after the colonies at the side of the road in the no-longer-so United States (and now you wonder if you’re being duped, if you’ve been taken in)...

what if… what if jefferson hadn’t been so influenced by Palladio… after all, Jefferson traveled, he went to france, he must have known contemporary architects in france, he must have come across Boullée… what if, when jefferson was designing Monticello, he concentrated on the dome…

Vito Acconci was born in 1940 in New York, NY. His design and architecture come from backgrounds of writing and art. His poems in the late 1960s treated language as matter (words to look at rather than through) and the page as a field to travel over; his performances in the 1970s helped shift art from object to interaction; and his installations turned museums and galleries into interactions between spaces and people. In the early 1980s, his architectural-units were meant to be transformed by users. Later in that decade his work crossed over, and he formed Acconci Studio, a design firm that mixes poetry and geometry, computer-scripting and sentence-structure, narrative and biology, chemistry and social-science.