Black Grass

Venice has never been a natural, organic place. It was born of the power of will and is sustained by continuous effort. It is on this tension — between what man has created and what stubbornly lurks beneath his creation — that “Black Grass” (Black Grass) begins. This work appears in the garden as a displacement. The living earth gives way to a synthetic field: dense, not amenable to unambiguous interpretation. At first glance, it seems to be emptiness, the absence of anything. But it is not emptiness. Over time, real grass grows through it — slowly, unevenly, without anyone’s permission — and the work transforms into something else: into a dialogue, into an agreement that still hasn’t been reached.
A field woven from attention divided among all, from the presence of people who may never see it completed. Ultimately, all that remains is a question that the work refuses to answer for you: what does it mean to create nature, and what, despite everything, grows through it?

Curator: Selcan Atılgan, co‑curator: Destina Eceem Bulut