36th São Paulo Biennial - Human Inside and Outside the Human Body

article

DATE

17 Nov 2025

AUTHOR

João Victor Guimarães

36th São Paulo Biennial - Human Inside and Outside the Human Body

AUTHOR

João Victor Guimarães

The 36th São Paulo Biennial takes its name from the poem Da calma e do silêncio by Dona Conceição Evaristo. In the poem, the writer, thinker, and poet from Minas Gerais coined the term "escrevivência" (a term coined by the author to describe the experience of writing and living through experiences) – highlighting the "power of emission" of Black women on diverse bodies, whether they are between or beyond agency and submission. In this poem, the author elaborates on a wandering/passing force originating from "submerged worlds" penetrated and perceived through poetry. Self-perception is perhaps one of the most important acts of this Biennial.

The curatorial text, signed by Bonaventure Soh Bejeng Ndikung, general curator, begins with the preamble: "the concept of the 36th São Paulo Biennial is a proposal to think, listen, see, feel, and perceive the world from the point of view of Brazil." Next, in the same passage, the curator states: “one could say that, to conjugate humanity as a verb, it is necessary to learn to listen to the world, to listen to the fields, to listen to the plants and animals, to listen to the people, to listen to the voices of the waves that caress the beaches, the murmur of the waters, the winds that sculpt the sand and the contours of the land, to listen to the whispers of the rocks, hills and mountains, to listen to the myriad of beings that make up our estuaries.” The estuary here serves as a reference to the environment or culture of production that is more about expansion than deepening. The difference between the two is masterfully explored by Édouard Glissant, according to whom expansion means recognizing the sensitivity of what is around you. “To vibrate with the vibration of the world,” says Glissant, quoting Aimé Césaire. In this sense, the curatorial proposal wanders with some natural contradiction between an ode to humanity and the recognition of the importance of other beings that interfere in human life. The imprecise intersection is of less interest to the proposal.

Thiago de Paula Souza, co-curator of this Biennial, in the text Paisagens Temporárias, which is part of the first collection of the edition launched along with the catalog at the opening, discusses “constitutive relationality” (as described by Chug), and synthesis as a “relational element between human beings, electronic devices, and other living organisms.” In the words of fellow co-curator Anna Roberta Goetz in the text Walking Together - Notes on Solidarity Beyond Empathy, in the Mexican indigenous language Otomi, the word “brother” is not used as a noun, but as a verb. “This means that saying ‘he is my brother’ is, in fact, saying ‘we are becoming brothers to one another.’ (…) when we say ‘he is my brother’ in Otomi, we are also saying ‘we walk together.’” Here, we are interested in understanding self-perception as a gesture of becoming brothers to a vital force, breaking the hierarchy between culture and nature so “characteristic of Western translation.” The co-curator concludes by stating that in many other Indigenous traditions around the globe, “humanity is understood as part of a larger whole in which everything that exists ‘is united’ and ‘walks together.’” Also in the sense of self-awareness or emotion, we can read co-curator Alya Sebti in her text Todos nós precisamos sonhar (We All Need to Dream), in which she quotes the poet Audre Lorde: “White parents told us: I think, therefore I am. The Black mother within each of us—the poet—murmurs in our dreams: I feel, therefore I can be free.” Affirming humanity as a practice is a decision that becomes politically necessary in the context of the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza (so belatedly recognized by the UN), the invasion of Ukraine, conflicts in the Democratic Republic of Congo, the countless daily deaths of young Black people in the peripheries of Brazil (with the police, a state force, as the main culprit), the invasion of Indigenous lands, and the authoritarianism practiced by the declining American empire, in a world threatened by the reluctance of the European empire to accept defeat peacefully. Although contradictions may arise from the very mention of humanity (or the humanities) as a practice, others are pointed out in the distance between discourse and practice. Let us return to the first sentence of the curatorial text after the preamble: "the concept of the 36th São Paulo Biennial is a proposal to think, listen, see, feel, and perceive the world from the point of view of Brazil."

Upon entering the Ciccillo Matarazzo Pavilion, which houses the São Paulo Biennial in Ibirapuera Park, the first work in the interior that the public encounters is “Sun of Consciousness. God Blow Thru Me - Love Break Me,” by the American artist of Nigerian descent, Precious Okoyomon. The work proposes more than a counter-colonial state of nature; rather, it presents a poetic state and an architectural and civilizing proposition without monuments to agents/orderlies of colonialism (as Achille Mbembe elaborated on regarding necromancy and geomancy). The work presents a contrast with the “concrete jungle” that is São Paulo and so many other cities that pulsate with the death of green, blue, soil, and Earth. The technical specifications state that the installation is composed of wooden constructions, earth, Cerrado vegetation, water, artificial fog, and a soundtrack. The text in the catalog, written by Billy Fowo and translated from English by Sylvia Monasterios, states that "Okoyomon, in this commissioned work, directs her metaphorical gaze towards the Cerrado and its seemingly chaotic and fragile ecosystem, drawing parallels between one of Brazil's largest biomes and society." Regarding Chapter 1, which contains Precious Okoyomon's work, the curatorial text states: "the works in this chapter also address the yearning for physical, social, cultural, and psychological references that define our sense of belonging." Here we find a contradiction that goes beyond simply focusing on the humanities. When we notice that the presented work, in an attempt to revere the Cerrado, includes invasive vegetation from the biome, what we see is a result that is not only conceptually but also technically incoherent and flawed. Although her initial proposal, as well as the artist's previous works, are worthy of appreciation, this serious flaw denotes a lack of curatorial oversight and artistic carelessness regarding rigorous ethics and conceptualization. There is a noticeable overemphasis on visual narrative, which, while interesting, is not and should not be sufficient, especially when it comes to "belonging" or any level of consistency and coherence. This carelessness also exemplifies a considerable disregard for the rigor required in dealing with certain Brazilian specificities. According to the curatorial team, "manguebeat should also be understood as the possibility of creating technologies, sciences, and arts that not only reflect daily life but are also fundamental to subverting the terrors of normativity." This statement manifests itself at various points in the Biennial. However, manguebeat itself appears as an artifice for such a metaphor. Or worse: an illustration of a discourse that seeks less to be transformed by the "object" (of research) than to transform the horizon upon which it should better focus. In this sense, the exact opposite occurs to what is described by co-curator at large Keyna Eleison in the text "Words together are melodies," present in the same collection already mentioned and launched alongside the opening of the Biennial. In it, Eleison states that listening “is not just a curatorial gesture. It is an ethical and spiritual gesture. Because listening is opening space. And opening space is relinquishing control. Listening is taking the risk of being transformed by what is heard, yielding to the power of a poem-word.” In the same text, the co-curator states: “listening is a risk. Because, when we truly listen, something within us needs to change.” However, we note that, regarding the carelessness in listening to/studying the Cerrado vegetation, the curatorial and ethical gesture was not efficient in becoming coherent with the “listened-to” biome.

Many other works and moments, however, coherently and autonomously express conceptual and philosophical elements explored by the exhibition. Antonio Tarsis, for example, already indicates in research prior to the biennial and sufficiently consistent, the dynamics and transits of mineral exploration intersecting with colonial and slave-owning traditions. As a research object used to delve into these routes, coal is synthesized in match shells. The same element used by the master Batatinha to compose sambas of unparalleled melodic, lyrical, and philosophical richness. This is a meticulous research into the capacity of Black materials and bodies to "vibrate with the vibration of the world," to recognize and raise, in this case more than ever, the vital energy expressed through sound waves gestated between submission and agency. On the same floor, Sara Sejin Chang (Sara van der Heide) presents an installation with objects (rituals), paintings, and a film powerful enough to draw a startling parallel between the racism and colonialism committed by Europe in South Korea and that committed in Brazil. To this end, the South Korean artist uses fiction (or autofiction?) in which she elaborates a robust proposal about the role of white women in the reproduction of patriarchal colonialism, complicating the narrative of feminism and liberal democracy. Her proposal also complicates the Marxist narrative that women were the first victims of the project that became fundamental to capitalism. Misogyny is indeed a founding pillar of Western culture; however, what Chang informs us is that colonialism can manifest itself "in diverse bodies. Male bodies, female bodies…". Expressing a discussion rarely addressed with the seriousness and skill that the artist demonstrates. This is because in the film we understand that white women, even survivors of patriarchal oppression, embody colonialism and the same patriarchal regime insofar as they also violently penetrate territories, narratives, and cosmologies. Often, these survivors, as well constructed in Sejin Chang's work, seek fulfillment through the "well-intentioned" exploitation of artistic and cultural expressions, labor, and non-European and/or racialized lives. In the film, we see the entire plot unfold in an art gallery where, at one point, the Korean artist is mistaken for a cleaning lady. This explicitly charged scene is one of the most striking examples of the mastery with which Sara Sejin Chang draws parallels and connections between experiences lived by racialized groups. In the film presented by the artist, we read a quote from Tony Morrison: "they (the European oppressors) had to rebuild an entire order to make it seem like this system is real." Sara Sejin Chang's works at the São Paulo Biennial inform us that there are travelers who journey along diverse paths yet remind us of similar landscapes. Her work allows us to perceive ourselves within the humanities.

Another highlight of the 36th São Paulo Biennial is the Black men's brotherhood Vilanismo. Their occupation is built with complete coherence between the brotherhood's practices and research and the Biennial's proposal. The scaffolding used by the brotherhood to enclose two of the pillars of Oscar Niemeyer's project expresses a metaphor for the wandering their bodies undertake. Since its inception, Vilanismo has sought ways to find and maintain a space where Black artists from the peripheries of São Paulo can achieve artistic fulfillment and develop their research in a safe and fulfilling environment. To this end, a systematic engagement with art institutions, the implications of real estate speculation, and other factors that hinder access to housing and space for artistic expression is necessary. We will discuss the brotherhood further in the near future. Joan Nango, with the Girjegumpi team, presents a site-specific work capable of expanding what is known as architecture by relating it precisely to the Sami way of life, an indigenous European people originating from the Nordic countries now located between Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia. Their work presents diverse technical and conceptual notions for the conception of housing, spatial construction, and, of course, the transmission of diverse knowledge based on traditional and sophisticated practices, guided by a commitment to sowing the concrete horizon, the guiding landscape, that is, the paths through which living beings will travel. Hence the importance of words, written or spoken. Another artist who stands out at the Biennial is Pélagie Gbaguidi, who presents us with sensitive elements in pictorial and poetic gestures to reflect on the material and immaterial, concrete and symbolic conditions that guide some human experiences of the African diaspora between the de- and counter-colonial. To this end, the artist uses structures similar to tents, public park benches, and other spaces or contexts where people temporarily and improvise shelter. In the artist's work, the mention of such circumstances may be a metaphor for what translators Victor Galdino and Vinicius da Silva, in the preface to the edition of the book Tudo Incompleto by Fred Moten and Stefano Harney (GLAC editions, 2023), present as: "(Amiri) Baraka considers the allocation of Black people in the Americas as a displacement that, in the end, makes the process of discovering their own place an improper movement: if there is a place, it is not that one there, that America; but it is also not another place to be recovered, in the collage of fragments of pre-colonial worlds. The incessant creation of a spatiality reserved (meant) for Black people through the continuous and differential making of Black communities leads to this place-to-be-ours (meant) that is not fixed, is not always the same." To this end, the artist uses a mixed media technique, combining paints with fabrics found during her residency at Pivô Salvador. On the back of her installation, we see the traditional housing architecture of West Africa, especially in Mali, Guinea, Ghana, Benin, and Burkina Faso, says the artist. According to this tradition, houses are built using the careful study of parts of the human body as a parameter. It is less an anthropocentric proposal and more a nesting, in the sense of seeking to ensure that all life force finds forms that fit it, move it, express it, and fulfill it. This notion, however abstract it may seem, is based for Pelágie on the promotion of policies that guarantee concrete conditions for the well-being and recognition of human matter. Therefore, the artist uses a quote from the preamble of the Constitution of the Federative Republic of Brazil, promulgated in 1988, which states that our democratic State is "intended to ensure the exercise of social and individual rights, freedom, security, well-being, development, equality and justice as supreme values of a fraternal, pluralistic and unprejudiced society." How have we become healthy and vibrant people in the face of this State's lack of commitment to so many aspects of our lives?

A key highlight of the 36th São Paulo Biennial, Rebeca Carapiá explores the sophisticated perception of bodily, visual, architectural, and philosophical languages historically constructed in/by the peripheries, particularly from the Uruguai neighborhood in Salvador's lower city, with its flood scars, construction methods, the curvature of hair strands, and street maps forged to ensure the permanence of Black, peripheral, and lesbian lives in the expanding cosmos and world. At the Biennial, the artist continues to perceive herself/us in the life force emanating from the paxiúba tree, known as the walking palm, whose strength is dedicated to seeking light. That is, conditions for self-realization through a spatial dimension that, for peripheral bodies, is as symbolic as it is concrete, professional as it is geographical. The conceptual elements discussed by the artist find concreteness in labor, in the rigorous, exhaustive manual construction practiced by the artist and visible in each scratch on the steel, each fold of the copper, each welding decision. At the Biennial, Carapiá reached a point of particular aesthetic and conceptual maturity, as she came even closer to what Coccia defines as "the movement of which it is capable and within which it (the being) exists, generates itself, destroys itself and does everything it can." As the exhibition proposes, the artist's essay presents a study of intersections, confluences between beings who walk in similar gestures along life's path. Between floods generated by environmental racism and the abundance of the Amazonian regions where the paxiúba tree grows, it expresses life and remakes it.

Another important point for appreciating Rebeca Carapiá's work, as well as that of so many others, is the exhibition design conceived by Gisele de Paula and Tiago Guimarães, who state that they were inspired "by the fluidity of rivers and the image of the estuary present in the curatorial proposal." In the same statement, the duo affirms: "organic forms and light structures compose a sensory landscape. More than delimiting paths, the exhibition design proposes ways of being and moving, understanding flow as a form of existence." The success of the exhibition design is evident to the visiting public, guaranteeing fluidity and definitively seeking to corroborate the sensitivity emanating from the works in the use, for example, of colors that are present and vibrate on the walls and in fabrics whose undulations serve both as an affluence and as a metaphor for the plots, networks, and agents that travel paths other than roads. The architectural and exhibition design of this edition manages, on the second and third floors, with emphasis on the latter, to express its proposal and body well. On the ground floor (the area before the ramp), however, we noticed the absence of an exhibition design capable of, as already mentioned, supporting works like Salissa Rosa's, which require more space, that is, freedom for agency within the architecture. We realize how unfortunate the curatorial decision was in limiting the artistic and exhibition proposal when we observe the same artist's exhibition at SESC Pompéia, for example. The same occurs with the almost imperceptible work of Simnikiwe Buhlungu, clearly constrained on the ceiling of the third floor, revealing the Biennial's inability to communicate the artist's research, so well described in the aforementioned text written by co-curator Thiago de Paula Souza. In the same text, the author argues that: “the pavilion-estuary metaphor synthesizes, in the exhibition space, the curatorial thinking. This image guided spatial decisions from the beginning: we opted to build the minimum possible number of walls or rooms, prioritizing the integrity of the existing structures and the natural light that bathes them.” These examples express the importance of paying attention to the intersection between artistic, curatorial, and exhibition design. This triad, when unbalanced, generates harmful results for both parties and especially for the public, who lose the opportunity to enjoy an excellent production. In this sense, works by Wolfgang Tillmans are also weakened, as they are almost hidden in various locations and suffer from natural light that does not help them at all. An old, indomitable force, natural light, on the other hand, nourishes the small forest of sculptures by Gervane de Paula, so well presented among the rivers of fabric that corroborate the fluidity of the composition through which the public can move, perceiving the asymmetries and slender forms in the sculptures. For reasons unknown and unfortunate at a later time, the sculptures by the same artist, expressing the same ideas, are restricted and confined to the adjacent area, where they now stand on a gray base as close to the window as to the pavilion's pillars (one of which houses a fire alarm), presenting a glaring contradiction to the movement, flow, and organic flow that were so happy and coherent in the previous moment.

In the historical core, Mohamed Melehi (one of whose works is extremely similar to that presented in the Giardini at the last Venice Biennale, in dialogue with Rubem Valentim), Bertina Lopes, and Edival Ramosa (so brilliantly researched by André Pitol, curatorial assistant for this edition of the Biennale) together form a powerful triad capable of unfolding their languages in a way that is still rare today, standing out in the face of complex political and geographical circumstances. This encounter is perhaps one of the most sophisticated points achieved by the curatorship of the 36th São Paulo Biennale. Although using accessible language to communicate artistic research and practices—which is commendable—the current edition of the Biennale presents them in a context unfavorable to the assimilation between work, authorship, and information. Furthermore, we noted a difficulty with the captions during much of our visit to the Biennale. In the historical center, this problem is even more serious since, until September 11th, it was impossible to find any legends in the space. It was necessary to guess, ask for help from the mediators, or look at the map, which was also out of stock at that time. In fact, one of the few (perhaps only) legends available in the historical center mentioned a poem by Hajra Waheed. However, the artist's work was not even near the legend. Its location, if we followed the legend, would be next to Balangandã, a painting by Firelei Bàez. It is also noticeable that the maps used in the historical center are unusable, to the point that we cannot even call them maps, since they show lines and shapes related to the space, accompanied by the names of authors and works, without correlating the position of the works with the cited name. A problem that the simple use of numbering would solve. The map becomes a useless list. The accumulation of these oversights becomes one of the weakest points of a Biennial that risks being accused of alienating the public from the right to be informed. The same applies to artists who have the right to be presented in accordance with the works they have created. An exhibition of this size cannot afford to neglect the necessary clarity regarding the correspondence between works, artists, and the position they occupy in the space.

Although facing increasing communication difficulties, the 36th São Paulo Biennial presents the public with works by commendable artists such as Jessie, a Cuban artist with her embroidery and routes, and Ernest Mancoba, a South African who resided in Paris and spent decades without due recognition, both of whom are invested in formal and gestural experimentation of rare sophistication and forcefulness. Outside the historical core, many happy moments are offered in the encounter between Sérgio Soares, a scholar of Yoruba culture, and Hamadine Kane, in a cartography of knowledge, signs, materials, and books (such as Pidginization, by the general curator of this Biennial, and Images of the Night, by Victor Galdino, both published by GLAC editions) that promote intersections in a coherent aesthetic language capable of fulfilling its objective: to bring people closer. Their dialogue is strengthened by Alain Padeau's installation, which indicates the relevance of sound for this edition of the São Paulo Biennial. Nearby, we find one of the best audiovisual installations of the Biennial, composed by Leonel Vásquez. In this case, we experience that the world "is not to be read, but listened to," as stated by the exhibition's general curator. Vásquez, in turn, stimulates some of our senses, with the clear demonstration of the importance of emptiness for the propagation of the phenomenon emanating from the sensitive element that will be recognized by our organs. Furthermore, the artist leads us to perceive so much sensitivity in water, glass, and metals in an equation that hypnotizes us, that is, it compels our bodies to surrender to the present state and moment, fleetingly constructed in relation to our bodies and to others equally sensitive. Another moment in which the triad of exhibition design, curatorship, and artistic practice is successful is in the dialogue between Myriam Omar Awadi, Lídia Lisboa, and Juliana dos Santos, who are interconnected not only by the use of fabrics but above all by the rhythmic content that the works manifest in the different elements used for this purpose. Moffat Takadiwa's installation stands out as a penetrating expression of the complex of life, discard, and survival generated by humanity and generating humanities. Approaching Takadiwa, Manauara Clandestina, especially in its parade, with profound beauties, returned/reformed the reason for Art's existence: life.

Lastly, it is noticeable that even with some difficulties, the 36th São Paulo Biennial manages to achieve the feat of presenting a considerable number of African artists and formulating an ode to the humanities with sophistication. Even in the conceptual contradictions (such as the metaphor of the mirror and the affirmation that "the world is not to be seen but heard," as described by Bonaventure), there is a "refreshing," challenging, and indeed sophisticated authenticity. Even those who disbelieve in humanity may perceive (themselves) in the Biennial something even more powerful: a vital force. Yes, the Biennial presents a set of proposals in which we perceive ourselves in the expression of internal forces that are not limited to their forms but manifest themselves through them. Emanuelle Coccia said that "a thing has nature only because and to the extent that its being is an effect of the movement of which it is capable and within which it exists, generates itself, destroys itself, and does everything it can." To experience nature, or to recognize oneself in/with it, is to become ever closer to oneself and, paradoxically, to other lives. The Biennial's proposal invites us to perceive ourselves within this natural spectrum of what is human inside and outside the human body. In something that seems to have been interesting for the exhibition to call humanity.

Entitled Nem todo viandante anda estradas – Da humanidade como prática (Not Every Traveller Walks Roads – Humanity as Practice), the 36th São Paulo Biennial, which opened on 6 September 2025, can be visited at the Ciccillo Matarazzo Pavilion until 11 January 2026.

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