From sacred chants to techno: Caterina Barbieri tells us about her Venice Music Biennale. “This will be my last edition; then I’ll go back to composing”

On the Giudecca there is a bench where one might encounter her. It is her favourite bench, and she, Caterina Barbieri, goes there to watch the sunset over the lagoon, the vastness of the horizon gradually changing colour. “Living in Berlin, I’m used to a static horizon. Here, however, every time I come, I am captivated by this city, which subjects you to an incredibly intense sensory experience. For me, Venice embodies this somewhat psychedelic dimension of change, this perpetual interplay of light, movement, water and atmospheric elements that reminds me so much of the language of music.” Barbieri is one of the world’s leading electroacoustic composers, a source of pride for Italy. Since last year she has been director of the Biennale Musica, having been personally appointed by Pietrangelo Buttafuoco, who paid no heed to her young age (by Italian standards): she was 34 at the time of her appointment. Last year’s edition was titled ‘La stella dentro’, an idea that came to her whilst walking through St Mark’s Square at night, when the tourists have already returned to their hotels and all that remains is (almost) the sound of one’s own footsteps and the lapping of the water in the distance. This year’s edition is titled ‘A Child of Sound’, which will be her last because “they asked me to stay but I declined. I’ve chosen to carry on making music: for me, it’s the most important thing of all,” the director reveals to Il Foglio. The 70th edition will kick off on 10 October and close on 24 October: “Even last year, the intention was to open up to a more diverse audience, including through a presentation of contemporary music that is as cross-generational as possible,” explains Barbieri. “The idea of this somewhat poetic symbol of the child, which emerged from conversations with the artists during the last edition, responds to this need to break the rules a little, to embrace an irreverent childhood. Because this is the idea of avant-garde music I’m fond of – music that, in its own way, is also transgressive. Then, in my view, ‘A Child of Sound’ harks back to a pristine notion of listening – a more unconditional way of listening, less filtered by cultural superstructures. I was drawn to this primal, primordial concept of listening. Then there’s the healing element of music, which allows even difficult emotions and pain to be transformed into something beautiful. It’s a gift that artists possess, which, in my view, comes with a duty: to offer, during a concert, a space for collective transformation and catharsis. The child, therefore, as a figure of healing and revolution.”

Scrolling through the programme, one is struck by an obsessive quest for novelty, but above all by a focus on representing regions and cultures that remain largely unexplored by most listeners: from Singeli dance music, which originated in the suburbs of Tanzania, through to classical guitars, Cuban folk sounds, Moroccan sacred music and Japanese dub-techno. Is this the result of things you’ve come across during your career, or of genuine research? “A bit of both. Thanks to my concert work, I’ve had the chance to meet countless artists all over the world,” replies Barbieri, her voice filled with genuine passion for her work as a curator. “An important mission of the Biennale is to support new creations and commission new works. And I think getting to know the artists is fundamental. However, for me, a valuable source of inspiration has been precisely going back to studying and researching specific themes, because very often artists find themselves isolated in a bubble. My themes are always broad. But I’m also keen to give space to non-Western traditions. Efforts have been made to seek out forms of expression that are not merely tourist attractions or the usual ones circulating on the international circuit. Last year I travelled to Tunisia and came into contact with North African music, and there were already projects linked to that world in the previous edition. This year we will have Asmae Hamzaoui, a rising star of Gnawa sacred music. We have been in contact for some time with the Mazaher Ensemble, one of the last groups associated with this music, which is experienced as a ritual of purification from demons; unfortunately, however, they will not be able to come to Venice due to the advanced age of their members.” Naturally, there is a strong Italian presence, and this is by no means a given, because in electronic music – as Caterina Barbieri knows only too well – Italian artists, from herself to Lorenzo Senni (both cult figures for a genre icon such as Aphex Twin), Donato Dozzy, Luigi Tozzi and Dino Sabatini, are more highly regarded abroad than at home. “It’s true, and in fact the invitation to the Biennale – which is, after all, a very institutional setting – really surprised me. I know how difficult it is in the Italian context for this music to be recognised by the establishment, something I haven’t encountered abroad. I also come from an academic background, having studied at the Conservatoire, and I must say that I never felt particularly valued in the past. But I can see there are positive signs of change, going hand in hand with a blossoming of the Italian music scene that is gaining recognition abroad. Not to mention festivals that are attracting an increasingly international audience.”

There are numerous references to the C2C Festival in Turin as well as the Lost Festival in Parma. This is also one of the challenges facing the Biennale Musica: to channel the inspiration and growth emanating from the country’s various local scenes, both those rooted in tradition and those looking to the future. “In my view, the Biennale must truly be an opportunity to support the Italian scene without marginalising it. I was also keen to celebrate pioneering figures who have played a seminal role, such as Francesco Messina with ‘Prati bagnati del monte analogo’: an album produced by Battiato which has received numerous accolades abroad but has, however, been played very little in Italy. Gigi Masin will also be there; he is a Venetian composer and the creator of ‘Wind’, a cult ambient music album sampled by artists such as Björk, written on the Giudecca in the 1980s and never performed in his native Venice. Both will be presenting these historic works as well as new music: Messina with a new piece entitled ‘Le api dell’invisibile’, and Masin with a work for ensemble that I have entrusted to Marie Luise Buch, a Danish composer of the new generation. The event will take place outdoors, in the gardens of Sant’Elena, because I wanted it to be open to the city. “Since last year’s edition, we’ve realised just how much of a challenge concert accessibility is for the Biennale – not because of ticket prices, but due to limited capacity.” Among the new Italian names is Marta De Pascalis, “a Roman artist living in Berlin who, for me, is a new exponent of that synthetic minimalism, with a very coherent body of work”, Barbieri adds. “But also Grand River, another debutant, who will be presenting an exclusive preview of a new work due to be released by Editions Mego, a long-established Austrian label specialising in experimental music.”

Among the festival’s venues is Forte Marghera, far removed from the hustle and bustle of tourism, with shop windows overflowing with greenish cannoli and tricolour spaghetti, and more geared towards a club atmosphere – which, too, is perhaps not particularly appreciated in the Italian context. The best DJs and producers from around the world will be performing there, from DJ Nobu’s Japanese techno to the breakbeat sounds of Polygonia and Livwutang (though Loidis, Carrier, Mechatok and artists from the Portuguese record label Principe will also be performing here and at other venues). In your view, as someone who lives in Berlin, is Italy also lagging behind in recognising club culture as more than just a chance to dance and party? “I’d say so; sometimes people think I’m a DJ when I’ve never actually played a DJ set on my own,” replies Barbieri. “There’s a great deal of superficiality – not to say ignorance – when it comes to understanding electronic music and acknowledging this form of expression in our country. Musicians are often seen simply as DJs playing in nightclubs. There are certainly a few cultural norms that could do with an update. However, as someone who lives in Berlin – where clubbing is taken very seriously, as well as being a whole industry that revolves around the city – I don’t experience this kind of dichotomy; so with the Biennale, I’ve tried to move fluidly between these forms of expression and place them on an equal footing. Incidentally, in my view, Venice is a city with a great desire for the club scene because it has very few opportunities to experience it, despite being a university city and home to so many young people”, who, moreover, come from all over the world, from Salento to Hong Kong. “This is another reason why the events at Forte Marghera are always so well attended”.

Over the past two years, Barbieri has continued to commute between Berlin and the Lagoon. In her view, living in Venice is a prerequisite for understanding it, for trying to ensure that the Biennale works to rebuild, at least in part, the sense of a museum-city increasingly and exclusively devoted to hit-and-run tourism. “You have to get to know it beyond that tourist veneer that certainly exists. Last year I asked for a flat, where, incidentally, I began composing my new album – I’d wake up, open the window and play, because I wanted, first and foremost, to start getting to know the city. I started exploring the Lagoon; Venetians mostly get about by small boat, and it was precisely these small boats that were used to open the last edition, with a performance by Chuquimamani-Condori, to whom we awarded the Silver Lion (this year, however, the award will go to the composer Sarah Davachi). I met so many people, many of whom run cultural activities all year round. Take Paolo Rosso, for example, founder of the ‘Cinema Galleggiante’ on the Giudecca. Together we organised a secret event on the island of Sant’Andrea, an island I’ve fallen in love with. I’ve got to know him and other figures from the Venetian underground scene. I try to foster relationships with people who care deeply about Venice in this vibrant, living sense – and not just for its economic and tourist exploitation. There’s a very vibrant local scene because the Biennale also acts as a catalyst for infrastructure and attention. In my own small way, I’ve tried to promote this local scene, for example by asking the ‘100_ve’ collective – which is more closely linked to the clubbing scene and made up of very young men and women – to curate a specific evening for them as part of the Biennale’s programme.”

When asked what she would like people to remember about her editions of the Biennale Musica, Barbieri replies that she “haven’t given it much thought”. But then he is carried away by a sincere outpouring: “I’d like music to once again become a powerful experience, lived not merely as a consumerist affair but as a social and collective act. Like all institutions, the Biennale has its constraints and limits, but my aim is, in a way, to break down those barriers. And to open it up to a more vibrant, lively audience. You see, I’d like this musical language to remain alive and capable of changing the present.” The achievements and results are there for all to see. So why not stay in Venice for another two-year term? After all, among Barbieri’s predecessors are directors whose tenures lasted several years. “They asked me to stay on for another two years,” the conductor confided to Il Foglio. “I must admit I gave it some thought. But then I realised that, to get back to composing, I need silence and privacy around me. I chose to turn it down partly because, for me, music – composing – comes before everything else.”

Just a couple more weeks, then, and that vast programme – featuring over 130 artists, dozens of exclusives and world premieres – will take shape over three weekends. Then Barbieri will put aside her routine of strolls between the Giudecca and the Castello – her favourite areas – and her composition overlooking the Lagoon, and return to her Berlin. It remains to be seen whether she might not return, every now and then, to visit her favourite bench. The one she now goes to in order to admire the fullness of the horizon – a horizon that welcomes rather than rejects. To convey, through her notes and distorted sounds, what Iosif Brodskij of Venice was able to put into words – almost a manifesto for those who will come after her: ‘Water is equal to time, and water offers beauty its double. We, being partly made of water, serve beauty in the same way. By touching the water, this city enhances the appearance of time; it embellishes the future. This is the function of this city in the universe. For the city is static whilst we are in motion. The tear is proof of this. For we pass away, and beauty remains.”