INSTITUTE FOR DOCTORAL STUDIES
IN THE VISUAL ARTS
By Jessie Keating and Elisha Miranda-Ramirez,Cohort '24
The 2024 Venice Biennale, renowned for its bold themes and global perspective, embraced the concept of "Foreigners Everywhere" this year, tackling migration, diaspora, and the fluidity of identity in an interconnected world. The exhibition pressed us to confront shifting landscapes and reflect on those forced to live on society's margins. Within this framework, the Holy See Pavilion's exhibit, Con i miei occhi (With My Eyes), curated by Chiara Parisi and Bruno Racine, was more than an art display—a searing cry from the shadows. Housed in the Giudecca Women's Detention Home—formerly a sacred monastery and now a prison since 1859—the exhibit captured the realities of incarcerated women, confined not only by prison walls but by the societal neglect and biases that tether them.
As PhD students from the Institute for Doctoral Studies in the Visual Arts (IDSVA), we, Jessie Keating and Elisha Miranda-Ramirez, entered this space with our professor and Dean of Students, Dr. Silvia Mazzini. Dr. Mazzini's voice became our guide, bridging linguistic and emotional divides as we stepped into the prison, an experience that quickly proved to be about much more than academic curiosity. We were asked to leave our identities and perceptions at the gate, mirroring how these women were forced to sever connections with the outside world. Each step through the stark registration process—passport checks, heightened security—echoed the daily separation these imprisoned women endure. Accompanied by two incarcerated women who served as beacons in this dimmed world of confinement and a guard enforcing constant surveillance, we were reminded of the ceaseless restrictions that shape their lives.
This act of surveillance, embodied by the painted eye, parallels the art within the exhibit—both bearing witness to lives shaped by systemic oversight and societal neglect. The motif called to mind Michel Foucault’s panopticon, a metaphor for constant surveillance. Yet, within the Giudecca walls, the surveillance felt layered: the women were being watched, certainly, but the eye also seemed to gaze outward, posing uncomfortable questions about a society complicit in their confinement. Was it judging the women or condemning the world that had abandoned them?
With My Eyes transcended the typical exhibit; it became a lament—a raw, unmediated glimpse into lives too often neglected. The collaboration between the incarcerated women of Giudecca and internationally acclaimed artists bore witness to each woman's pain, isolation, motherhood, and dreams. Through art, they found both voice and defiance, drawing us in and demanding that we confront the weight of their struggles. This was no passive display; it demanded an active interrogation of systemic injustice. The art on display wasn't merely an expression of pain but a testament to survival, memory, and the fragile preservation of identity.
One of the most evocative installations was Vitae, suspended in the sacred space of the former church. Floating forms, created in collaboration with artists such as Sonia Gomes, Bintou Dembélé, and Claire Tabouret, evoked the womb as both a symbol of creation and confinement. Delicately suspended like cocoons waiting for rebirth, these forms became representations of the potential for life and transformation even in the most constrictive of environments. Here, the womb—a symbol of life and regeneration—was transformed into a complex emblem of resilience. Each sculpture held a narrative of endurance and fragility, communicating the undefeated spirit of its creators.
Underneath the frescoed ceiling, bathed in the light filtering through stained glass, the sculptures felt sanctified by the sacred space. The tension between transcendence and carceral reality filled the air, forcing us to confront the discord between sanctity and confinement. In this space, each form seemed to inhabit a liminal state—caught between brutality and hope. Standing beneath them, we, too, felt a sense of suspension, as though caught between liberation and containment, bound to experience both the weight and potential of transformation.
With My Eyes offered not just a feminist critique but a requiem for the forgotten. The exhibit exposed the prison industrial complex's disproportionate impact on women, especially Women of Color, compelling us to question how systems strip these women of their identities. Art, for them, became a vital form of reclamation. The suspended wombs in the exhibit were not just physical structures; they represented lives that, despite systemic oppression, still harbored the potential for regeneration and renewal.
The exhibit resonated far beyond the boundaries of the prison, speaking to women around the world—who endure compounded forms of violence from racism, sexism, and classism. Incarceration is more than a personal tragedy; it is a collective one. Through With My Eyes, the art revealed this truth in every detail—every stitch, every brushstroke, every film frame. Yet the weight of societal indifference loomed large.
Not every visitor who steps into this prison will heed the call. Some will pass through, seeing the exhibit as just another stop on their Biennale tour, disconnected from the humanity it represents. This indifference poses a challenge to art that aims to disrupt societal complacency.
With My Eyes occupies an uneasy space at the intersection of beauty and brutality, striving to evoke empathy in a world often desensitized to suffering. It remains acutely aware that its message may fall on deaf ears.
For us, as PhD students and artists, the experience of With My Eyes marked a shift. It served as a reminder that art is more than aesthetic appreciation; it is a platform for resistance, challenging forces that seek to erase, silence, and confine. When art centers the voices of the disenfranchised, it holds the power to shift cultural paradigms, awaken empathy, and inspire calls for justice. However, it also serves as a stark reminder of how transient these moments of revelation can be and how easily society can avert its gaze once the exhibit is over.
The eye painted on the prison wall remains etched in our memory. Was it merely a motif, or did it gaze back at us, demanding accountability? With My Eyes calls on us to ensure these women and their stories are not forgotten. It asks: What happens when the exhibition closes, lights dim, and the visitors go home? It is a challenge to us, the audience, to ensure these voices remain heard and remembered. Art can indeed be a bridge, but only if we are willing to cross it.
