It almost all began with a flood after Istanbul’s heaviest rains in 80 years, yet most of us kept our feet dry during the professional preview of the 11th Istanbul Biennial on September 10th and 11th. Curated by the Zagreb-based all-female collective WHW (What, How & for Whom), aka Ivet Curlin, Ana Devic, Natasa Ilic, Sabina Sabolovic, the biennial’s title “What Keeps Mankind Alive” takes its cue from a song in Bertolt Brecht’s “The Threepenny Opera” (1928). WHW states “[b]ringing back Brecht is an attempt to think about the role of artistic endeavour in the conditions of contemporary capitalism, to reevaluate our everyday practices, our value systems and modes of operation”. Somehow it is remarkable that the curators went along with the English translation of “Denn wovan lebt der Mensch” as “What keeps MANkind” alive.  If anything, this was the most gender-critical biennial I ever attended, in the noughties wherein large-scale cultural events deem feminism and gender issues unsexy and passé. A daring choice, to say the least. With half of the artists being women, but also the curators being active and present hosts of the event  (a very welcome rarity), this Biennial had all the potential to be unlike any others, yet struggled with escaping its own confines and institutional framework. Also this was made clear within the curatorial statement: “What are the questions that can still be opened up through an exhibition of such a visibility, and what is the knowledge that can be generated by it?”

The most engaging work dealing with gender thematics managed to combine a poetics, and aesthetics with a critical agenda. Turkish artist Nilbar Güres is a prime example, and a personal favourite of the Biennial. At the Feriköy Greek School she installed a series of large photographs titled “Unknown Sports” and “Indoor Exercises” (2009). Showing women in an old fashioned gym, the sports they “perform” are the regime of adhering to beauty ideals and standards of femininity. A woman swings in shorts from the bars while having her legs waxed, another performs a balancing act on a cooking pot, while holding her high-heeled red shoes in hand. The usual masculine space of the gym has been domesticated with rugs, cooking utensils, and frilly lace. In one of the photos a small detail stands defiantly: a chopping board with an erect carrot and cucumber about to be castrated. “Unknown Sports” and “Indoor Exercises” not only refer to the unknown, or rather unrecognized, labour going into domestic work, but also to the confined space of the home, the private indoor, wherein these actions take place. In the Antrepo No. 3 – the Biennial’s largest and traditional venue – Gures exhibited drawings with similar heroins. Very particular in style, with explanatory titles such as “Eyebrow Plucking” and “Threading”, we see a motley crew of feminine creatures with hairy armpits and sexes engaged in the acrobatics of hair removal.

This work is so much more playful than Margaret Harrison’s “Homeworkers” (1977-1978), a documentary collage looking into the position of non-unionised women doing manufacturing work at home. Granted, this was made during the heydays of 2^nd wave feminism and should be viewed within that historical context, yet placing this work 30 years later to make a point feels archaic, and the reading does not transcend sloganism against patriarchy. Fair enough, but perhaps not enough within the context of an art exhibition? The confusion of historical discourses and contemporary strategies is something that recurred on different levels in general within the show. To its detriment.

However, another example of a wonderful work is Turkish artist Canan Senol’s 27’ animation “Exemplary” (2009). Using a fairytale plotline and characters reminiscent of Ottoman miniatures, the tale of Fadlike, the most beautiful girl in town, serves as an “exemplary” case of the loop of servitude women might find themselves in: from being a docile daughter, to a docile wife. Here beauty and religion are interestingly intertwined, while the former serves as a source of envy, the latter serves as a marker of status once beauty is lost. As if piety replaces beauty. Both end up being oppressive of course. Too bad the same artist missed the mark in her video “Fountain” (2000), shown at the entrance of Antrepo No.3. The video shows a pair of breasts lactating. The sound we hear is that of the milk dripping. The image captivates neither in a visual, erotic or critical sense. Moreover: it is plainly what it is: a pair of breasts dripping milk. Frankly, that is not enough.

Two male artists touched upon gender issues in interesting ways. Michel Journiac’s black and white photo series “24 Hours in the Life of an Ordinary Woman” (1974-94), show Journiac in drag performing the duties of a middle-aged, married, lower class woman. From cleaning dishes and serving hubby soup to playing the piano and attempting to dance tango. The camp quality of the photos is augmented in the pictures wherein Journiac poses as a diva next to an exhibition of his own housewife drag images, or sports a feather boa with 2 hot bare-chested men surrounding him. Judith Butler would have been pleased: the performativity of gender exemplified! German artist Hans Peter Feldmann’s 1994 piece “Portrait. 50 Years of a Woman” is originally a book containing 300 pictures of a woman from childhood till the age of 50. As far as I recall in Antrepo No.3 only a selection was displayed. Though we know very little about the woman in question, the ordinariness of the snapshots, and the fact that she indeed could be “everywoman”, remains intriguing. Somehow one keeps scanning the images hoping to find why the artist has chosen her in her singularity as the subject for his work. Of course this answer never comes...