Arsenal tips

The 60th edition of the art extravaganza that’s the Venice Biennale runs until 24 November at the two main venues Giardini and Arsenale. as well as countless offsite locations, official and unofficial. There are 88 National participations this year, with four countries participating for the first time: Republic of Benin, Ethiopia, United Republic of Tanzania, and Democratic Republic of Timor Leste. Here are eleven of the must see country pavilions.

Every savvy traveler needs a really good white tank top in their arsenal. Apart from taking up little to no space in your suitcase, it’s a foolproof option that will go with essentially anything you pack. And speaking from experience, you’d be surprised just how hard it works in your wardrobe.

It’s a Biennale time in Venice, aka the Art Olympics, an every-two-year event where La Serenissima’s 118 islands are almost entirely dedicated to contemporary art from countries and artists around the world. What started out as small art fair in the Giardini, Venice’s public park, has turned into a six-month, all-island, non-stop blockbuster art fest of exhibitions in palaces, galleries, public spaces, and, of course, the Giardini and Arsenale. This year’s 60th Venice Biennale Stranieri Ovunque - Foreigners Everywhere brings it on strong with 331 artists, 88 national pavilions and 30 collateral events, not to mention other pop ups. That’s a lot of art to take in, and a lot of ground to cover. After years of visiting the Biennale as press and also including time working at the US Pavilion, I’ve finally figured out the best way to navigatee Venice Biennale.

The Venice Biennale is renowned for tackling weighty and complex themes from nationalism to climate change. But that doesn't mean all the works on show are sombre or obscurely conceptualized. This year, dozens of contributions to what is known as the 'Art Olympics' are joyous, celebratory and spectacular to look at.

I spend a month or two in Puerto Rico, where my mother’s family is from. Often I go in winter, with the other snowbirds, finding solace among palm trees. But I’m not a tourist, not really. I track the developers that privatize the shoreline; I follow the environmental reports that give our beaches a failing grade. I’m disenchanted with the Island of Enchantment, suspicious of an image that obscures the unglamorous conditions of daily life: frequent blackouts, meager public services, a rental market ravaged by Airbnb. Maybe that’s why I turned away from the sunshine and started to explore caves with my friends Ramón and Javier, seeking out wonders not yet packaged for the visitor economy. I’ve been learning to love stalactites and squeaking bats, black snakes and cloistered waterfalls — even, slowly, the darkness itself.