At each Venice Biennale, the visitors get to experience the encounter of independently curated national pavilions and the artistic director's thematic exhibition. The latter is always presented in the same two venues: the Arsenale, a tunnel-like space where in old times ropes for the marine were twisted, and in the central pavilion of the so-called Giardini. This park hosts the national pavilions of the European nations, who are part of the inaugural core group of 1895, whereas the other countries rent sections of the Arsenale and other venues in the city, palazzos or transformed factories for example (see Köhler 2020: 84 for the history of the biennale and distribution of pavilions).Cecilia Alemani was chosen artistic director of this 59th Biennale, which was scheduled to take place in 2021. However, due to the pandemic, the Biennale opened one year later, in 2022. According to Roberto Cicutto, the president of the Venice Biennale, Alemani's choice to focus on the relationship of human bodies to their environment, their fragility, could have to do with this biennial being entirely planned from video conferences and no physical studio visits (Margutti et al. 2022: 39). Alemani wanted to give space to processes of transformation, dissolve rigid distinctions of gender, and break up categories confining notions of human-animal-machine, as she wrote in the introduction of the catalogue (Margutti et al. 2022: 44–45). Of the more than 200 artists she invited, 180 “have never had their work in the International Art Exhibition until now”(Margutti et al. 2022: 44–45) and 80% were women. As a matter of fact, many artworks alluded to human anatomies, be it replicas, or imagined organs, some in action, palpitating with liquids moving around, others in between actions, as the video of a woman cleaning the organs of a rubber sex puppet between clients’ visits demonstrated.1 Five “historical capsules” interspersed in both venues, showed pioneer work of artists2 exploring different forms of “trans” and “post” that, according to Alemani, offered a “web of references” (Margutti et al. 2022: 46) that encouraged the present generation to continue exploring new territories and cross borders.3 The title Milk of Dreams was borrowed from a book by the surrealist artist-writer Leonora Carrington, who stood up for a world of magic and transformation and was sanctioned and marginalized (Margutti et al. 2022: 43).Paintings by Kudzanai-Violet Hwami (Biennale College Scholarship recipient) installed on black and white floor-to-ceiling wallpaper prints welcomed visitors in the first side room of the Giardini venue (Fig. 1). They are based, according to the Short Guide (Mugatti at al. 2022), on photos and sound recordings of funerals and weddings she took on a recent trip to Zimbabwe but also on images taken from the internet.4At the very far end of the Arsenale tunnels, Sandra Mujinga had suspended fragments of coarsely woven costumes at different heights with thin wires, a quartet of sculptures called Mókó, Libwé, Zómi, and Nkáma (Fig. 2). They seemed to dissolve, ripple apart, as loose ends indicated. The even, low-level, green light enhanced the sensation of “things falling apart” (to evoke Achebe 1958). Mujinga's sculptures reminded me of Egungun costumes, which I have seen in Benin during consultation rituals.Even further down, almost at the rear exit of the extended Arsenale grounds, the U.S.born artist and transgender activist Tourmaline showed a multiple-screen video installation called Mary of Ill Fame (2020–2021) a portrait of a Black woman in Seneca Village (now Central Park in New York City) around 1830, who was forced to be a sex worker, accused to have stolen a White man's wallet, unjustly incarcerated, yet succeeded in freeing herself and her companions by reconnecting to her African ancestors’ magical powers (Fig. 3). The continuity of prejudice and racial and (trans)gender discrimination over centuries came across through the intense contrasts of images and soundscapes Tourmaline had created between the ruling bourgeois lifestyle of the masters and the misery of the Black enslaved population.I had chance to participate in the opening ceremony of the Kenya Pavilion in a modified factory (Fig. 4). Speeches by Dr. Amina Mohamed, the minister of culture, the commissioner, were questioned in a spontaneous intervention by Simon Njami, who insisted that political support for art must be unconditional and full hearted. Almost forgotten, curator Jimmy Ogonga and the artists represented in the Pavilion were given space to speak at the end of the session. The very diverse paintings and sculptures by Dickens Otieno, Syowia Kyambi, Kaloki Nyamai, and Wanja Kimani harmonized and showed that they practiced the stipulation of their exhibition's title, Exercises in Conversation.South Africa and Ghana rented (as at the 2019 edition) sections of the Arsenale as the location for their national pavilions. Several countries signed twenty-year contracts with the Biennale for space in this former rope factory and marine depot, which cost, according to unofficial information from the team of the South African Pavilion, around €20 million for ten editions. While the South Africa exhibition was on the second floor of the renovated Sale d'Armi building that hosts about a dozen national presentations, Ghana's was situated on the ground floor at the far end of the rope-making halls (Fig. 5). Black Star—The Museum as Freedom was the title of Ghana's show, curated again by Nana Oforiatta Ayim, who invited three artists to explore processes of decolonization and pan-Africanism. Na Chainka Reindorf presented paintings of Black figures in abstract spaces framed by textile patterns, Afroscope an installation of 1,024 doodles of faces on 8 cm × 8 cm papers and NFTs,5 and Diego Arauja a sound installation. Instead of using elaborate architecture like David Adjaye did in 2019 with his mudwalls, Oseo Asare used the unlit space of the industrial building as black backdrop by placing the artworks on a modular grid of thin wooden bars.The debut Pavilion of Uganda6 and veteran Côte d'Ivoire had distinct curatorial strategies. Shaheen Merali, curator of Radiance—They Dream in Time, had chosen only two artists to represent Uganda in Palazzo Palumbo Fossati's historic space (Fig. 6). Acaye Kerunen's sculptural work derived from techniques of traditional basket-making by deconstructing utilitarian forms, and let them grow all over the Palazzo's walls, while Collin Sekajugo's paintings reinterpreted from an African perspective stock photos sold on the internet promoting consumer ideals and played with the momentum of large, colorful canvases. A limited selection of artists might have had a better chance to imprint afterimages on the visual memory of the visitors and the jury, as we will see further down. For Côte d'Ivoire (Fig. 7), the two Italian curators, Massimo Scaringella and Alessandro Romanini7 presented six artists under the title The Dreams of a Story in black-box architecture inserted into a section of the salt magazines on the waterfront called Zattere. A wall of evenly framed and spaced postcard-sized drawings by the late Frédéric Bruly Bouabré was contrasted with Aboudia's large paintings. His pseudochildish scribbling-style faces and stick figures were enriched with a three-dimensional twist by sewing worn-out textile toy animals to the canvas. The number of artists and works in an almost night-club setting exceeded the dose of what is necessary to present a country in Venice.Immediately after the 59th Venice Biennale jury's list of award winners8 was announced on April 23, cheers in the press and social media sprang up announcing that finally artists of African descent had received the recognition they deserved in one of the most agreed-upon “centers of the artworld”9 (despite the fact that Georges Adéagbo had received the jury's honorary mention in 1999 and El Anatsui the Golden Lion in 2015). The Golden Lion for best pavilion was awarded to Great Britain, represented by Sonia Boyce; best artist to Simone Leigh (United States); and the debut national pavilion of Uganda10 shared honorary mention with the French Pavilion11 hosting Zineb Sadira from Algeria.The question I would like to discuss is, how important is it really today to gain international recognition by being represented at the Venice Biennale? Has its standing as a forum for critical and “objective” evaluation of artists’ contributions diminished with the drastic increase of blue-chip galleries taking a major role in financing costly projects that the Biennale could never afford, possibly influencing the selection of artists? Even though the professional preview is no longer scheduled four days before the opening of Art Basel (previously, non-European professional collectors could do both in one trip) and the events are now almost two months apart,12 still, some critics say, the Biennial has become to some extent a warm-up and sales-catalyzer for the art fair with the highest turnover in the world. For example: In 2019 Ralph Rugoff presented Njideka Akunyili Crosby's five large canvases and a series of portraits with the support of the London-based Victoria Miro Gallery in his theme show (see Köhler 2020). Miro opened a gallery in the center of Venice and hosted a solo show with Crosby's smaller works that opened during the professional preview. In April 2022, the same gallery showcased works by Paula Rego, whose paintings and sculptures of fabric dolls were presented by Alemani in her main show in the Giardini, again with the support of the gallery.Gallery Hauser & Wirth “contributed” to Simone Leigh's Brick House (Fig. 8) being shipped to Venice and placed in the first room of Alemani's Arsenale Venue chapter (see Mugatti et al 2022: 192). The piece was commissioned in 2019 for the High Line in New York. Cecilia Alemani is one of the curators of the High Line.13 And precisely because of this work, the biennale jury awarded the Golden Lion for the Best Artist in the International Exhibition The Milk of Dreams to Simone Leigh:Alemani pursued the same dramaturgical strategy of “big splash at the beginning of the show” in her Giardini venue, where she placed Elephant by Katharina Fritsch (1978) (Fig. 9) in the first space. It is almost same size as Leigh's Brick House in the Arsenale. Each Biennale's artistic director has the privilege to suggest artists for the Golden Lion for Lifetime achievement. On Alemani's recommendation, Katharina Fritsch and Cecilia Vicuña were awarded the Golden Lion for Lifetime achievement.It boils down to: Without money from big galleries or institutional supporters, no theatrical contributions can be realized that will entice an audience to the Venice Biennale as a super-event. Of course, transport, insurance, and accommodation have become more expensive. Yet the Venice Biennale has turned commercial. Two indicators: Until about five years ago, invitations for the three-day preview were granted to professionals and art critics only after accreditation; now anyone can buy the Biennale pass, silver to diamond, from €70 to €3000, which includes preview access.15 In 1999, when I applied for official collateral status with Georges Adéagbo's installation in public space, it was granted for free within a few days; now it costs minimum €20,000 and takes time.16I write this review from the perspective of a European living in Benin since 2000. While hosting workshops and exhibitions in Cotonou, I have observed the stagnation of the art scene in the Republic of Benin and limited access to a truly international audience and recognition due to the filters of “Francophony” (Köhler 2022). I have witnessed how almost neocolonial control by French cultural agencies caused the tragedy of the Biennale Regard Benin 2012,17 which did not continue after its second edition. Yet a couple of years ago, a fresh breeze came into the art scene: In March 2020, a presidential decree led to the opening of the planning office of the new Galerie Nationale,18 which started to acquire works by Benin artists and build up a database. After years of research and negotiations triggered in 2018 by Bénédicte Savoy and Felwine Sarr's report on looted artworks in European museums, President Emmanuel Macron agreed to the restitution of twenty-six Dahomey masterpieces exhibited in the Musée du quai Branly-Jacques Chirac.19 When they arrived in Cotonou in November 2021, after 129 years of forced exile, they were cheered by crowds along the roads where the trucks passed. But they did not go into storage waiting for the completion of a new museum to host them in Abomey. For the first time in its history, the presidential palace opened its doors to the public, after an express renovation, and hosted an exhibition of the returned Dahomey art works, together with a comprehensive presentation of thirty-four contemporary artists.20 The exhibition in the cleverly chosen location attracted 2,000 visitors a day, was extended by two months, and transformed the relationship of the population to their heritage and contemporary art, none of which were ever presented on that scale before.The African Art in Venice Forum opened the 59th Biennial with a panel entitled “From Restitution to Contemporary Creation,” discussing the impact of restitution on contemporary art in general and the dynamics and transformation triggered by the restitution of looted art works on new cultural politics in Benin in particular.21 Coline Toumson-Venite, Yassine Lassissi, Alicia Knock, and Georges Adéagbo, moderated by Silvia Forni22 exchanged their thoughts on how to make the enthusiasm for old and new art in Benin sustainable (Fig. 10). According to Toumson-Venite, head of the Mission of Culture and Arts of Benin's Republic President, four museums are under construction—in Cotonou, Ouidah, Abomey, and Porto Novo—to host contemporary art and restituted art works. Infrastructure is needed, as there are still 3,500 looted artifacts in French museums to be returned.The well-planned program of the third edition of the African Art in Venice Forum included discussions of how African nations and artists can not only insert themselves into the existing machinery of the Venice Biennale, but also help transcend its Eurocentric perspectives and contribute to transforming it. In addition, the Forum's main theme was art alliance building on the African continent, which connects to the new developments taking place in Benin. If an African nation—such as Benin—has the political will to give art and culture a major role in the development of their society and provide infrastructure to attract local and international audiences, is it still really a “must” to be present at what Zimbabwean curator Rafael Chikukwa (2020: 2) calls “an important global cultural arena where art was canonized and promoted” that his country can “neither afford nor accept to be outside [of]”? Are the Venice Biennale, the Kassel documenta, Art Basels in Miami, Hong Kong, and now Paris, still “obligatory passage points,” as Michel Callon (1986) phrased it, for an artist's and even a nation's international recognition and success? As a step towards decolonization, the notion that these events are exclusive gatekeepers to global success surely needs to be deconstructed. Attempts to question rigid notions of centers and peripheries isn't new. The late Okwui Enwezor decentralized his documenta in 2002 by hosting equally important “platforms” in Vienna, New Delhi, St. Lucia, and Lagos, culminating with Kassel. Yet even having, once in a while, an artistic director from outside Europe might not change the market and eurocentricity of the Biennale if they are not allowed to make sustainable changes to the mindset of the institution and have to adjust to the rules and ethics of a well-established machine. The Berlin Biennale, by contrast, offers good examples: The 2018 edition was directed by Gabi Ngcobo (South Africa), 2020 by Lisette Lagnado and others from Brazil, and the current edition by the Algerian-French artist Kader Attia.22 This trend is essential to replace European curatorial dynasties. (Cecilia Alemani, for instance, is married to Massimiliano Gioni, artistic director of the 55th Venice Biennale in 2013.)24This was the first Biennale after the murder in 2020 of George Floyd. Looking back at Ralph Rugoff's 2019 Biennale, May We Live in Interesting Times, and comparing it to Alemani's focus on artists who cross borders between categories held seperate by bourgeois conventions, it is obvious that Rugoff opened up—almost prophetically—more channels for Black artists to speak about their realities than did Alemani. Rugoff gave artists like Zanele Muholi, Arthur Jafa, Frida Orupabo, Henry Taylor, Michael Armitage, NjedikaAkunyili Crosby, Otobong Ngkanga, and others space to unfold their narratives about life in a White-dominated world. While the surrealistic approach of Alemani's main show seemed intended to give the audience a break from harsh political (racist) realities, the 2022 jury's decision to honor exclusively pavilions related to Africa and artists of African descent could be seen as an indirect support of the Black Lives Matter movement.Alemani's show started with Simone Leigh's giant Brick House and ended with Cupboard, her golden sculpture of a naked African woman with braided hair and stiff young breasts in a wide, bell-shaped robe at the rear exit of the Arsenale (Fig. 11).25 I truly question whether the ubiquity and bulky presence of at least ten tons of bronze and ceramics of her work in the U.S. Pavilion and Alemani's thematic show stimulated the viewers to reflect with persistance on how and why notions of White supremacy linger in Western societies, engage with Black emancipation movements, and deconstruct clichés concerning Black cultures. The artist transformed the U.S. Pavilion into a giant raffia-covered hut, like a Hollywood movie set for filming White adventurers without exposing them to tropical diseases. In front she placed a 24-foot-high dark bronze with a concave head and a face like a spoon or parabola antenna (Fig. 12)—a stunning abstract concept obviously borrowed from the Dan communities in Liberia and Côte d'Ivoire, of which the Met in New York has fine examples in their collection.26In the pavilion's first room, visitors encountered Lost Garment (2022), a bent-over Black woman standing in a bronze pool, filled with real water, doing laundry on a stone (Fig. 13). On the website of Matthew Marks Gallery, Leigh says of her work, “I am charting a history of change and adaptation […] through objects and gesture and the unstoppable forward movement of Black women.”27 If that's the case, why not make a giant bronze of a Black woman giving a speech, flying a plane, or directing a board meeting instead of reducing her to traditional gender roles?In other rooms, the artist presented ceramic sculptures in the shape of cowrie shells and conic Zangbeto costumes made of raffia fibers, yet, as she mentioned in a conversation at a reception in her honor, she has never been to West Africa. What led to the overexposure of Leigh at this Venice Biennial and uncritical description of her work that “powerfully portrays the Black woman's body as a site of multiplicity” (Margutti et al. 2022: 192)?28Leigh's uncoded use of symbols is straightforward and seems to adapt to fast art-consumption habits. It is not “African” in its directness. Dana Rush made this very clear when explaining the nature of coded messages:It is interesting to observe the difference of how artists deal with topoi from the African continent depending on their background, intellectual tools, and cultural conditioning. Leigh's staticness and naive directness could be seen as a reification of a typical American reductive and simplifying worldview, whereas other artists treat the issues and images Leigh tries to appropriate in her work and statements with subtlety adding depth: Sandra Mujinga, as previously mentioned, worked with modest materials and fragmented forms that invited the viewers to complete what was visible with their imagination. The enigmatic blend of strands of narration in Tourmaline's film about struggling for survival and identity triggered spin-off scenarios in my imagination long after I had left her space, while I felt as if locked into a Disney Africa parody in the U.S. Pavilion. Thinking quickly of Simpson's, Ligon's, Hammons's, and Jafa's approaches worked as an antivenom. In addition, I fondly remembered Adéagbo's, Mutu's and Bouabré’s contributions to previous biennales, which all resonate Dana Rush's notion of an unfinished, open-ended aesthetic, an alternative to Western concepts of complete, self-contained over-auratized works of art.By occupying these African topoi on such large scale, with extensive public and media exposure, Leigh exhausts them and diminishes their agency and potential for critical thought. It would be too much to say, though, that Leigh blocks their use for other artists; cowrie shells, raffia fibers, Dan spoon sculptures will survive her passage and be available for other artists to dialogue with in their own ways.Details apart, Alemani got one message across: “The era of the myth of Alpha Male Macho Artists do best” is over.While there is no risk for an individual artist to accept an invitation by a Biennale artistic director to their main show, an African nation can harvest glory or shame, as the Uganda (Fig. 6) and Cameroon (Fig. 14)29 pavilions did. The cultural decision makers need to think twice whether the resources needed to launch and sustain a continuous presence at the Venice Biennale might not be better invested back home to make their country a cultural hotspot, a destination that can attract and cater to a local and international audience.