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The world’s most prestigious contemporary art event, the Venice Biennale, opens its 2025 edition this Saturday, marking one of the most politically charged and chaotic iterations in the exhibition’s decades-long history. What was meant to be a celebration of global artistic vision has been upended by geopolitical conflict after the awards jury stepped down en masse to protest the inclusion of Israeli and Russian national pavilions, leaving no Golden Lion awards granted by official adjudicators. Compounding the friction, large-scale public demonstrations have been staged outside the two contested pavilions, amplifying tensions that have split the global arts community.

While the jury framed its protest around its stance that only nations facing International Criminal Court investigations for alleged human rights violations should be excluded from awards consideration, the move has drawn further debate, with many critics arguing the United States should have been held to the same standard. Renowned British-Indian sculptor Anish Kapoor, one of the most high-profile voices in the protest, summed up the widespread frustration driving the unrest: “We are pushing back against the politics of hate and war that have plagued our world for far too long.”

In a sudden shift to an open, audience-driven selection process, visitors will now step into the jury’s role, casting votes for two top honors: best national pavilion from the 100 participating countries, and best participant in the Biennale’s central curated exhibition, titled *In Minor Keys*. Modeled after the fan-voted Eurovision Song Contest, the results will remain under wraps until the exhibition’s closing day on November 22.

Amid the political upheaval, the 2025 Biennale carries a historic legacy: it is the first major central exhibition curated by an African woman, the late Cameroonian curator Koyo Kouoh, who passed away one year ago before the show could be completed. Five collaborating curators stepped in to bring Kouoh’s vision to life, a vision centered on amplifying underrepresented minority perspectives from across the globe. The exhibition greets visitors with a towering, red feather-sculpted costume embroidered with glass beads, rooted in the Black Masking carnival culture of New Orleans, a tradition born from cultural practices brought to the Americas by enslaved Africans. In total, Kouoh selected 110 artists and collectives to participate, staying true to her core mission of carving out space for creators who are often sidelined by mainstream arts institutions. “She dedicated her practice to making space for every voice to shine, and that ethos runs through every corner of this exhibition,” explained co-curator Marie Helene Pereira.

Leading the slate of nationally curated pavilions, Britain’s representative, Turner Prize-winner Lubaina Himid, brings a deeply personal exploration of immigration, belonging and what it means to build a home in an adopted country. Titled *Predicting History: Testing Translation*, the presentation features vivid, brightly colored canvases that depict couples navigating the everyday dilemmas of being a newcomer. Himid, who was born in Zanzibar and has lived in Britain for more than 70 years, broke down the core tension of one standout work: “We have two architects debating where to build. One argues that building a permanent structure would prove they have contributed to the nation’s culture. The other says no – we need to build something we can escape from if we have to leave tomorrow.”

Off the main exhibition grounds, the Vatican has stepped in to offer visitors a quiet spiritual escape from the surrounding chaos with its pavilion, the *Mystic Garden*, installed on the grounds of the Discalced Carmelite order adjacent to Venice’s central train station. Guests wander through working vineyards, past a fruiting pomegranate tree and beds of fragrant herbs, wearing headphones that deliver a curated soundscape: reimagined compositions by 12th-century abbess, mystic and composer St. Hildegard of Bingen, reworked by contemporary artists including Brian Eno and Patti Smith. “Music helps us turn inward and connect with what Hildegard called the symphony that God placed within every life,” explained Father Ermanno Barucco, prior of the Carmelite order overseeing the installation.

Austria’s pavilion has become one of the most talked-about presentations on the Giardini grounds thanks to its unflinching, provocative performance art, which uses unorthodox materials to critique overtourism and the commercialization of Venice. Outside the pavilion, a naked female performer hangs from a giant brass bell, acting as a human clapper that rings the instrument with every movement. Inside, another nude performer rides a Jet ski in circles inside a large water tank, a visual metaphor for Venice’s transformation into nothing more than a crowded amusement park for international tourists. In one of the exhibition’s most controversial pieces, a third nude performer breathes through a scuba regulator while submerged in a tank of filtered toilet water pulled from nearby facilities, for a project titled *Seaworld Venice*.

Against the backdrop of calls for boycott, Israeli pavilion artist Belu-Simion Fainaru, a Romanian-born Israeli, has centered his installation on the tension between love and war, rooted in Jewish mysticism. Water drips slowly from suspended glass tubes into a central pool, pausing every cycle for exactly 42 seconds – a reference to the 42-day divine creation of the world in Jewish mystical tradition. Locks of love, similar to those placed by romantic couples on European bridges, hang across the pavilion walls, engraved with the commandment “Love thy neighbor as thyself” in Hebrew and the hopeful phrase “This too shall pass.” Fainaru pushed back against calls to exclude Israel, framing his own participation as a political act in favor of dialogue: “I oppose boycotts, and I stand for open conversation. That is my political statement. The jury’s move to exclude Israel from awards is nothing less than discrimination.”

Closing out the slate of standout national presentations, the Estonian pavilion centers the unrecognized labor of women through a durational, living artwork. Artist Merike Estna is working on-site throughout the entire six-month run of the Biennale to complete a large-scale wall painting inside a converted former church that now operates as a community gymnasium. The layered history of the space mirrors Estna’s artistic practice, which builds deeply textured surfaces through repeated, spontaneous applications of paint over time. The daily act of painting is intentional, meant to draw attention to the underappreciated everyday work that sustains communities and the planet. Curator Natalia Sielewicz described the project as “the everyday feminism of sustaining life, of sustaining our planet.”

As a much-anticipated burst of joy for global audiences weary from geopolitical and social uncertainty, the 2026 Eurovision Song Contest is gearing up to kick off its semi-final round in Vienna this Tuesday. This year’s competition brings a smaller lineup than recent editions, with just 35 participating nations – the most compact field since 2003 – a shift driven by a widespread partial boycott over Israel’s inclusion in the contest. While the political controversy remains impossible for many fans to separate from the spectacle, the 2026 iteration still delivers the chaotic, larger-than-life pageantry that has made the annual event a cultural staple, with everything from a silver-painted AI-themed performance and a fake gorilla cameo to pop legend Boy George and the longest sustained high note in contest history.

Following the trend of back-to-back winners Nemo of Switzerland and JJ of Austria, who integrated operatic vocal techniques into their winning tracks, 2026 sees a wave of contestants drawing from classical and operatic inspiration. Leading this pack is 17-year-old French prodigy Monroe, the youngest competitor this year, whose entry *Regarde!* blends frenetic string arrangements, glitched drum beats and powerhouse “Queen of the Night” style vocals. Billed as a celebration of the diverse musical heritage of France, the track builds to a showstopping climax, and industry analysts predict a top 10 finish with thoughtful stage staging. Montenegro’s Tamara Živković takes a maximalist approach on *Nova Zora*, pairing a thunderous techno beat with a Greek chorus to deliver a message about women breaking gender barriers. Co-written by professional opera singer Vesna Aćimović, the track comes as Montenegro aims to end a decade-long semi-final qualification drought that stretches back to 2015. Closing out the operatic category is Latvia’s Liene Atvara, whose haunting ballad *Ēnā* explores the lifelong trauma of growing up with a parent struggling with alcoholism. The soft, muffled opening verses build to a cathartic operatic finale that is guaranteed to leave not a single dry eye in the venue.

Controversy has already erupted around Romania’s return entry *Choke Me*, performed by Bucharest physics master’s student Alexandra Căpitănescu. Critics have labelled the track dangerous and reckless, claiming its lyrics reference unsafe sexual choking, a practice linked to permanent brain injury and death. But Căpitănescu pushes back against this interpretation, explaining the song is a metaphor for the emotional suffocation caused by self-imposed pressure and self-doubt. Regardless of the lyrical debate, the track itself is widely praised for its gritty, urgent energy, built on churning demonic guitar riffs and Căpitănescu’s distinctive raspy vocals. Equally layered is Switzerland’s entry *Alice* from Veronica Fusaro: on the surface a gentle waltz-time ballad about love, the track actually tells a chilling story of abusive stalking from the perspective of the perpetrator, adding a dark twist that elevates the already solid composition.

For fans craving upbeat dance tracks to cut loose to, the 2026 contest delivers no shortage of high-energy options. Bulgaria’s entry *Bangaranga*, performed by established pop star Dara, is a delightfully unapologetic, sass-filled bop packed with a speaker-shattering drum beat and an gratuitous, crowd-pleasing dance break. Germany’s Sarah Engels offers a more conventional Euro-dance anthem *Fire*, which draws clear inspiration from Dua Lipa’s pop-dance sound and relies on the familiar rhyme of “fire” and “desire”, but the track remains stubbornly catchy enough to perform well in public televoting. Belgium’s brooding pop entry *Dancing On the Ice* from Essyla is a sleek, hypnotic track that lacks the knockout chorus needed to take the top prize, while Cyprus’s Antigoni – a former *Love Island* contestant – invites audiences to the dance floor for sun-soaked Mediterranean escapism with *Jalla*. Blending traditional Tsifteteli belly dance rhythms with the Latin-infused sensuality associated with Shakira, the track already made headlines when a group of conservative Cypriot public figures condemned its music video as offensive to local history and traditions – a controversy that has only boosted the track’s popularity.

Many 2026 contestants have embraced the challenge of packing multiple distinct sonic ideas into Eurovision’s strict three-minute time limit, resulting in some of the most surprising genre-bending entries in recent memory. Current pre-contest favorites Finland’s Linda Lampenius & Pete Parkkonen deliver *Liekinheitin* (Flamethrower), which opens as a brooding passionate ballad before abruptly shifting into high-energy demonic electro-pop, anchored by a frantic violin solo. Already a number one hit in Finland, the track uses the metaphor of third-degree burns from intimate contact to describe all-consuming red-hot love, building to a climax as tense as a bomb countdown. Close behind Finland in the rankings is Greece, whose entry *Ferto* from Akylas blends traditional Greek instrumentation with retro Super Mario video game sound effects and a pulsing house beat. While the track initially reads as a brash anthem chasing fame and fortune, it shifts to a heartfelt tribute to Akylas’s single mother, who raised him through Greece’s devastating financial crisis, with a promise to end their lifelong struggle. Poland’s Alicja *Pray* also uses clever misdirection, opening with a gospel-style organ and mass chorus before shifting into sharp-edged rap, though the overall composition feels disjointed. Lithuania’s Lion Ceccah makes a dramatic visual statement, performing *Sólo Quiero Más* fully covered in silver paint. Sung in six languages, the track explores the rise of artificial intelligence and growing human detachment from reality, with a stage performance reenacting the struggle to break free from machine dependence – a concept that comes off as overly dramatic for many critics.

This year’s contest features two tracks centered on the universal frustration of corporate burnout and workplace dissatisfaction. Armenia’s Simón Hovhannisyan leads this theme with the gritty rock track *Paloma Rumba*, whose lyrics mock unproductive corporate meetings and empty workplace perks, with the line “This meeting could have been an email / Free coffee won’t keep me here, man.” His stage performance sees him flinging stacks of paper across the stage while backflipping toward the exit, backed by traditional Armenian folk instruments the duduk and dohl, though critics note the high-energy track becomes exhausting over its three-minute run time. The United Kingdom’s entry from the uniquely named Look Mum No Computer echoes this frustration. Over a rambunctious synth-driven sound that blends Kraftwerk’s electronic experimentation with Kaiser Chiefs’ Britpop energy, he laments being trapped in an office cubicle before escaping on a road trip across Europe, delivering the catchy chorus “Ein, Zwei, Drei” in German – a playful move clearly designed to appeal to EU voters, which the UK has struggled to win over in recent years. The entry has already divided audiences: some praise the UK for taking a creative risk, while others find the track irritating, meaning its final result will likely hinge on the quality of its live performance.

The slow, dramatic ballad category is packed with powerhouse vocal performances this year. Australia is sending one of its biggest pop stars, Delta Goodrem, to Vienna with *Eclipse*, a sweeping romantic ballad in the tradition of Celine Dion that describes a passion so intense it blocks out the sun. While the premise is scientifically unlikely, Goodrem’s conviction and vocal control make the track a credible contender for the grand prize. Denmark’s Søren Torpegaard Lund delivers a torrid tale of toxic romance on *Før Vi Går Hjem* (Before We Go Home), anchored by a simmering intensity that captivates audiences even if the simple chorus feels unremarkable. Azerbaijan’s Jiva delivers a cinematic break-up ballad *Just Go*, with cold, cutting lyrics about erasing a former lover from one’s soul, though the track blends into the crowd of similar overblown ballads that have failed to qualify for the final in recent years. Malta’s Aidan, one of the country’s biggest stars, brings a tender, wounded sincerity to the sentimental ballad *Bella*, in which he pines for the title character, whose name is repeated 20 times across the track. Israel’s Noam Bettan offers another heartbreak ballad *Michelle*, which tells the story of being trapped in emotional pain after a devastating relationship, with flourishes of Spanish guitar, but fails to connect emotionally with listeners. Ukraine’s band Leléka delivers one of the most resonant entries of the contest with *Ridnym*, a delicate, understated track that explores the feeling of hopelessness during war and the quiet drive to keep going despite everything. The song closes with a stunning 30-second-long high note – the longest in Eurovision history – that leaves audiences breathless just thinking about it.

Several entries this year center deeply emotional, personal storytelling rooted in national history. Albania’s Alis delivers the devastating ballad *Nân*, which tells the story of a mother waiting for her child to return home, a theme that resonates deeply in Albania, where 40% of the population has emigrated since the fall of communism in 1991. A former X Factor winner, Alis delivers the track with a raw sincerity that is hard to match. Croatia’s ethno-pop quintet Lelek shares a harrowing historical story on *Andromeda*, which explores the suppression, abduction and forced marriage of Christian women during the Ottoman Empire, and the secret cross tattoos they used to protect their identity. Portugal’s entry *Rosa* from Bandidos do Cante stands out from the crowded field with its simple, stunning a capella arrangement drawn from the traditional cante Alentejano musical tradition, born from bull-herders who sang to coordinate their work. Turning the energy back up, Moldova’s Satramos delivers *Viva, Moldova!*, a raucous celebration of the first generation of Moldovans born after independence, blending the upbeat energy of hits like Chumbawamba’s *Tubthumping* with traditional pan flute. Satramos performs in a football jersey printed with the number 373 – Moldova’s international dialing code – and the track even opens with a playful nod to the arrival jingle played at Chișinău International Airport, making it a joyful love letter to Moldovan culture.

For fans craving nostalgic disco vibes, 2026 offers several throwback entries. San Marino brings a high-profile collaboration with three-time contestant Senhit teaming up with 80s pop icon Boy George for the transcontinental disco track *Superstar*, though critics note the track lacks the fizz of past memorable entries, falling flat despite its star power. Georgia’s entry *On Replay* from junior Eurovision 2008 winners Bzikebi is a generic club track that fails to stand out, despite the band’s energetic live performance. Italian veteran Sal Da Vinci’s throwback disco track *Per Sempre Sì*, dedicated to his long-time wife and childhood sweetheart, leaves audiences with a warm, nostalgic glow, though its dated sound makes a win unlikely. Luxembourg’s Eva Marija, a songwriting student at a London music school, rounds out this group with *Mother Nature*, an uplifting eco-themed pop track that draws comparisons to young indie-pop stars Griff and Sigrid, which her classmates immediately identified as a potential hit when she first performed it.

Several 2026 entries play with language and unexpected conceptual narratives, resulting in some of the contest’s most quirky entries. Host nation Austria pins its hopes on 19-year-old Cosmó, whose track *Tanzschein* – literally translated as “dance license” – opens with the deadpan declaration “You need a dance licence, I have to be strict about that” over a slinking bass line. The track compares clubgoers to jungle animals, and features a stage performance with costumed gorillas and lions, leading to widespread confusion over whether it’s a commentary on toxic nightlife culture or just a chaotic bit of fun. Sweden’s Felicia performs *My System* wearing a diamond-studded face mask, which she reveals represents her struggles with mental health and self-image, while the lyrics tell the story of a destructive relationship she experienced early in her music industry career, paired with a thunderous techno drop sure to shock older audiences. Czechia’s Daniel Žižka embraces mixed metaphors on *Crossroads*, placing himself simultaneously in open waters, foreign fields, a golden cage and a vicious spider web to explore the difficulty of making decisions in an age of information overload. The brooding ballad builds to a stunning vocal climax, but it remains to be seen whether voters will be turned off by its convoluted lyrical concept.

Rock makes a strong return to the 2026 contest, five years after Måneskin’s iconic victory. Norway’s Jonas Lovv delivers *Ya Ya Ya*, a catchy, charisma-filled stomp-rock track with a riff echoing The Hives’ *Hate To Say I Told You So*, built for group singing. Estonia’s Vanilla Ninja, who previously represented Switzerland in 2005, offers the perky pop-rock anthem *Too Epic To Be True*, which carries the playful energy of early 2000s *Josie & The Pussycats*, though it currently sits near the bottom of pre-contest betting odds. For fans who prefer their rock dark and menacing, Serbia’s nu-metal band Lavina delivers *Kraj Mene* (Next To You), a smouldering track about suffocating infatuation that builds to a genuinely terrifying final scream from frontman Luka Aranđelović – a chilling note to end our preview on.

With semi-finals set to kick off in just a few days, the 2026 Eurovision Song Contest delivers something for every taste, from dance bops to emotional ballads, conceptual oddities to crowd-pleasing rock. All that remains is to see which entries will win over the global audience and claim a spot in the grand final, and hopefully end the UK’s recent streak of low-point finishes.

As the 2026 Venice Biennale prepares to open its gates to the global art world, self-taught American sculptor Alma Allen finds himself at the center of one of the world’s most prestigious contemporary art platforms — a spot he secured only after a turbulent, last-minute selection process that has stirred widespread criticism across the international art community.

A Utah-born sculptor who has built his three-decade career working independently from Mexico, Allen has long positioned himself as an outsider to the insular, clique-driven contemporary art establishment. Now, just days ahead of the Biennale’s official launch, he faces intense scrutiny from critics and art world observers alike, all eyes fixed on the U.S. Pavilion, the iconic Jeffersonian-style brick venue that hosts the American presentation every two years.

Controversy has shadowed the 2026 U.S. pavilion selection from the start, with many describing the process as uncharacteristically opaque. When the open call for the commission was revised, language centering diversity, equity and inclusion was removed, and replaced with a new mandate to promote “American values.” This shift led most major cultural institutions that typically compete for the coveted commission to step back, amid fears of being drawn into unseemly administrative politics.

The road to Allen’s appointment was rocky from the outset. The original planned exhibition, set to feature work by artist Robert Lazzarini and curated by art historian John Ravenal, had already secured U.S. State Department approval before it collapsed last September, when the project’s required institutional sponsor pulled its support. A subsequent attempt to attach the Lazzarini project to the newly created American Arts Conservancy (AAC) fell through, and within a short timeframe, the new lineup — AAC as sponsor, Jeffrey Uslip as commissioner, Allen as the exhibiting artist — was announced.

Ravenal, the curator behind the failed original project, has criticized the revised selection as highly irregular. He notes that after the original application deadline closed in July, there was no public committee vetting process, no open applications, breaking with 40 years of established open call and peer review practices for the U.S. pavilion. He has described Allen as “a pawn in this whole thing.”

Allen is no stranger to the backlash his participation has sparked, but he is firm in pushing back against claims of political influence. He stresses that the current U.S. administration has not interfered in his exhibition in any way, saying bluntly: “My art is not propaganda.”

This is the first time in Allen’s 30-year career that he has felt the need to defend his practice and his place in a major show. For three decades, he worked largely outside the constant critical gaze of the mainstream art world, a circumstance he calls a genuine pleasure. His practice centers on organic, biomorphic sculptures carved from wood, shaped from stone, and cast in bronze. He intentionally refuses to title most works, choosing instead to leave space for viewers to bring their own interpretations to each piece.

Allen’s exhibition, titled *Call Me the Breeze*, brings together a dozen brand-new works alongside pieces he created over the past two decades. The title, he explains, is a nod to his lifelong ability to navigate unexpected obstacles — a skill he developed as a self-taught artist who has rarely benefited from institutional support throughout his career. Uslip, the pavilion’s commissioner, says that exact independent, non-institutional background is what made Allen the right choice for the commission. “I am deeply interested and invested in artists who are not, I guess, academicized … or lobotomized,” Uslip explained.

In a playful, ironic touch that nods to the controversy surrounding the show, Allen installed a large cast bronze evil eye on the exterior of the U.S. pavilion, a talisman he joked would ward off negative energy. In a fittingly chaotic twist, the piece was stuck in transit and failed to arrive just days before the opening.

Inside the pavilion’s central courtyard, a headless, directionless sheep sculpture stands as a quiet self-portrait, representing Allen’s status as the outsider shunned for being “the wrong sheep.” His newest body of work includes bronze wall sculptures, treated with chemical processes that turn the rigid metal into a spontaneous, fluid medium he compares to watercolor.

Allen’s path to the Venice Biennale is a story of unconventional persistence. Early in his career, he experienced homelessness in New York City, selling his small creations from an ironing board as an act of sheer desperation — a step that launched his career, connecting him with his first collectors. Today, his work is held in major institutions including the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and the Palm Springs Art Museum; he previously took part in the 2014 Whitney Biennial, and made his European debut in Brussels in 2022.

When Allen received the last-minute commission, he made his first ever trip to Venice that November to walk through the pavilion. A trip to the Venice Accademia to see Hieronymus Bosch’s *The Visions of Hereafter*, a haunting work depicting heaven, hell and purgatory, inspired the exhibition’s core structure. “I wanted there to be a bit of the chaos that we go through,” Allen said of the show’s framework.

Looking back on the chaotic path that brought him to the Biennale, Allen says his selection came down to one key trait: his willingness to step into high-pressure, last-minute challenges. “When they do, I’m prepared to try it, and fail at it. That’s fine,” he says. Now, as opening day approaches, the outsider artist is ready to meet the world’s critical gaze with the same quiet adaptability that has defined his decades-long career.