The sun set on Venice’s seven-month-long art extravaganza entitled ‘Foreigners Everywhere’, and with it came the annual tally: 699,304 visitors, each one drawn into the world of the 60th Venice Biennale. It’s a number that sits below last year’s record-breaking attendance but still marks a high point in the exhibition’s history. For a city that floats at the crossroads of art and history, this Biennale wasn’t just a show; it was a story of who came, who participated, and who, perhaps for the first time, found their place within its hallowed halls.
For context, last year’s edition, The Milk of Dreams, curated by Cecilia Alemani, saw over 800,000 visitors and an average daily footfall of 4,062—a tough act to follow. Yet, this year’s numbers, averaging 3,321 visitors a day, remain the second highest ever recorded, outpacing the 2019 Biennale under Ralph Rugoff’s stewardship. But what these figures don’t immediately reveal is the broader narrative: a Biennale that leaned into inclusivity like never before.
Of the tickets sold, nearly 30 percent went to young people and students. Among them, a striking 35 percent traveled from abroad, turning the exhibition into a truly international classroom. Beyond the numbers, the Biennale witnessed a 150 percent surge in participation for its educational programs and guided tours, signaling a hunger not just to see art, but to understand it.
Yet perhaps the most poignant achievement was a 67 percent rise in participation from individuals in socially disadvantaged situations. Through the Fragile Categories Project, the Biennale welcomed people with mental health challenges, the homeless, migrants, those battling addictions, and others navigating life’s rougher edges. Programs like the Accessible Biennale, launched in 2015, played a crucial role, accommodating 2,689 participants with disabilities or in marginalization. This year’s initiatives included sensory maps for those sensitive to stimuli, social guides in plain language for cognitive disabilities, and tailored routes for visually impaired visitors.
Adriano Pedrosa, the Brazilian curator behind this year’s exhibition, Stranieri Ovunque—Foreigners Everywhere, centered the show on inclusivity. In a post-closing statement, he reflected on the Biennale’s expanded vision: “I hope this visibility for artists from the Global South, indigenous artists, queer voices, self-taught creators, and overlooked figures from 20th-century Africa, Asia, and Latin America continues to grow in the years to come.”
The exhibition featured a dynamic tapestry of perspectives, uniting artists and audiences around a common theme of otherness. Pedrosa’s vision wasn’t just theoretical—it was tangible, infused into every gallery, installation, and corridor. In his curation, inclusivity wasn’t a buzzword; it was a framework.
Overseeing it all was Pietrangelo Buttafuoco, a polarizing figure in Italian journalism and the Biennale’s president. He left his mark with a philosophical parting thought: “Art reminds us that everything is a polemos—a clash—between cultures, viewpoints, past and future. Yet, it also teaches us to find the ‘you,’ the ‘us,’ beyond the solitude of the ‘I.’ We are all Foreigners Everywhere, crossing worlds, finding beauty, and claiming freedom through our shared appreciation of art.”
The sentiment resonates in a Biennale that, for all its scale, felt intimate in its approach to storytelling. The sensory guides, the efforts to simplify language, and the routes designed for the blind weren’t just accessibility features—they were an invitation. An invitation to experience art without barriers, no matter where you came from or what challenges you carried.
As Venice begins to dismantle this year’s exhibition, there’s no word yet on what the 61st edition will bring. Founded in 1895, the Biennale has always been about looking forward. But this year, it’s also given us something to reflect on: the quiet, revolutionary power of making space for everyone.
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