Since its founding in 1895, La Biennale di Venezia has transformed Venice into a living gallery — a city where art flows not just through exhibition halls but through canals, courtyards, and centuries of architectural memory. The Biennale is more than an event; it’s a dialogue between the past and the present, between water and stone, between human creation and the city that hosts it. Each edition, artists and curators breathe new life into Venice’s historic spaces, reshaping them into reflections of the global moment.
But beyond the art itself, it’s the venues that define the experience — the Giardini, the Arsenale (including the Gaggiandre and Corderie), and the Padiglione Centrale. These spaces are the backbone of the Biennale, shaping how visitors move, see, and feel.

The Giardini, established for the very first Biennale in 1895, stands as the event’s symbolic heart. This garden of nations hosts 29 permanent pavilions, each designed by a different country, creating a landscape where architecture becomes a form of cultural identity. Here, visitors can move from the minimalism of Japan to the sculptural modernism of Germany within steps — an artistic geography unlike anywhere else.
At the center lies the Padiglione Centrale, formerly known as the Palazzo delle Esposizioni, anchoring the Giardini as the curatorial nucleus of the Biennale. Within its neoclassical façade, curators articulate the Biennale’s main theme, setting the tone for what unfolds across the city. It’s both a beginning and a compass.
Captured beautifully by Andrea Avezzu’s photograph of the Giardini, the space radiated the tension between nature and structure — leafy serenity juxtaposed with the bold gestures of contemporary art. This harmony of the organic and the architectural makes the Giardini not just a venue, but a metaphor for how the Biennale has evolved: deeply rooted, yet always in motion.

If the Giardini represents tradition, the Arsenale embodies transformation. Once the beating heart of Venice’s maritime empire, this vast shipyard complex now serves as a cathedral of contemporary thought. Its halls — most notably the Corderie and Gaggiandre — tell stories of both power and reinvention.
The Corderie, a 316-meter-long hall once used for rope-making, now houses some of the Biennale’s most ambitious installations. Its weathered brick, vaulted ceilings, and industrial rawness challenge artists to think spatially — to engage with scale, history, and texture. In this space, art doesn’t merely occupy; it converses with its surroundings.

Beyond it lies the Gaggiandre, the dockyards framed by soaring arches and water-filled basins. Once used for shipbuilding, they now form an open-air stage where art meets reflection — quite literally. Sculptures rise from the water, light dances across the surface, and the line between artwork and environment dissolves. Few spaces in the art world are as hauntingly beautiful or as contextually rich as these.
What makes the Arsenale truly special is its duality: it’s both ruin and renewal. The sense of industry lingers in the air, but so does imagination. Every Biennale turns it into a laboratory of ideas — where the boundaries between past labor and present creativity blur.

Back in the Giardini, the Padiglione Centrale stands as the conceptual heart of the Biennale. With its geometric symmetry and classical proportions, it provides structure amidst the fluidity of the exhibitions. This is where the Biennale’s principal theme takes form — where visitors first encounter the ideas that ripple through every national pavilion and installation across Venice.
Architecturally, the Padiglione Centrale bridges eras. Its early-20th-century modernist sensibility contrasts with the organic gardens around it, serving as a reminder of the Biennale’s dual mission: to honor tradition while continuously reimagining the role of art. It is here that the Biennale’s curatorial ambitions are tested — and where its intellectual pulse can be most clearly felt.
What unites these spaces — the Giardini, the Arsenale, the Padiglione Centrale — is their refusal to be passive. They’re not neutral backdrops but active collaborators in the artistic process. The Biennale doesn’t simply fill Venice; it converses with it. Each venue invites artists to confront history, engage with space, and think in relation to time itself.
In Venice, art doesn’t just hang on walls — it lives in the air, the water, and the rhythm of the city. The Biennale’s venues remind us that the setting can be just as expressive as the work it contains. The architecture, the light, and even the silence between exhibits all become part of the experience.
More than a century after its inception, La Biennale di Venezia continues to prove one truth: in the right space, art doesn’t just reflect the world — it reshapes it.




