I think this is the beauty about the ocean and working with the ocean as a kind of starting point for actually coming to the conclusion that everything is connected. You can't think about oceans without thinking about clouds, right? Everyone sees clouds.
Imaginaries of the Ocean: Everything Is Connected | Markus Reymann
Markus Reymann is director of TBA21–Academy, a research platform that he and Francesca Thyssen-Bornemisza co-founded in 2011 as part of the no-profit cultural foundation TBA21(Thyssen-Bornemisza Art Contemporary Foundation, based in Madrid), that focuses on enabling interdisciplinary dialogue about the social, ecological and economic issues that our oceans face. TBA21–Academy opened Ocean Space in 2019 in Venice as a physical hub for this exchange.
Ocean Space is a collaborative platform for Ocean Imagination and Ocean Action established and led by TBA21–Academy. It functions as a contemporary art space, virtual archive, research and residency platform, which creates the possibility for exchanges across the different disciplines of art, science and technology. The space opened in 2019 with the focus on the protection and conservation of the ocean, including rivers, lagoons and lakes which are part of the watershed. Their multiple platforms and programs offer digital and in-person participatory ways of connecting to conservation, ecosystems, food practices, science, art and culture that go beyond an exhibition.
I’ve seen that some of your earliest childhood memories are of the ocean. How do you think this has influenced your connection to water while growing up in an urban setting?
Forty something years later, it’s a little bit difficult to say, but what I can say is the water has played a huge role in my life. My parents took me swimming; I was in the water before I could walk, so it has always played a large role in my life. I think this experience with the Scottish sea growing up where my grandmother lived was kind of a huge visual impression, because it must have been so alien to everything else that I’d seen before. It is very vivid in my memory. But if that actually led to me having such an affinity to the water, or if the impression was because my parents took me to a swimming pool before I could walk. I don’t know, it’s a chicken and egg situation, but what I can say is that water has always played a huge role in my life.
It’s interesting how you grew up in an urban setting but have a real connection to the ocean. Considering a high percentage of the global population lives in urban areas and most people don’t even have direct access to open bodies of water or the open sea. How do you think that TBA21–Academy’s Ocean Space is connecting communities with bodies of water?
It says nearly a billion people live within 10 kilometres of the coastline. A lot of that is obviously centred in urban areas. Your follow-up question is about access. There’s not necessarily a straight line from living in an urban center by the ocean and actually going to the ocean. I think we’re culturally producing a number of images of the ocean.
The mainstream image of the ocean is its surface and the beach, not the extractive activities that are happening—fishing, drilling.
We create spaces where people can actually imagine themselves, spaces that resonate with people that maybe don’t have the privilege to go to the ocean and be with the ocean. I think often, access or relationships are created by people having the possibility to imagine themselves in a space and if the only thing imagined is a beach vacation, this is not something that is possible for them. Maybe there’s something that resonates all of a sudden, a space that I’m drawn to, and possibly at some point I can see myself visiting. By creating other imaginaries of the ocean, we hope that there’s a resonance with people, and we hope that then there’s the possibility to contextualise it differently and make it meaningful for individuals and therefore have a relationship. I had a conversation with the people that run AIRIE, which is an artist residency in the Everglades in Florida that is specifically addressing black and brown queer artists in the United States, because there’s such a disconnect of those communities from the environment. Which resonates very strongly with what we’re doing, right? It’s, how do we, how do we actually create an opening for people to be able to imagine themselves in those spaces?
Is the idea behind the Ocean Archive about creating a space for diverse narratives that can be shared? Do you want the common commentary of the archive to create collective and individual relationships with the ocean that are beyond the status quo?
Exactly, and on the other hand, by oscillating between these four poles of art, science, technology and action, we are actually also creating the possibility for people from different disciplines to meet each other. The archive itself is not a fixed structure; it’s based on relationships that are governed by these forty-two concept tags, then granularity through keywords, but that means the database is actually constantly arranging and rearranging itself through new content that is being contributed and in relation to content that is already existing. So the idea is to be able to create clusters of density in this relational database across disciplines where these contributions would otherwise not have the possibility to live next to each other, to be in proximity. Also for the creators of those to find each other and have conversations, that’s the other intent of the archive.
What do you see as Ocean Space’s role in utilising specifically art in climate crisis mitigation? Also by bringing in technology and science as well?
I think there are a number of answers to that question. There’s something about inspiration to be said here that is important in this context, because we’re still very much in this problem solution. We see the problem; we’re looking for a solution. I find that very often in these discourses we’re actually not talking about the principal challenges.
In problem-solution binary, a lot of people somehow find themselves paralysed by the immensity of the challenge. Inspiration is important—to actually feel moved to be able to do something.
In this problem solution binary, we get caught up in first-degree solutions; these are bandages that are being put on. Very often, in the challenge of converging crises and now runaway phenomena in systems, by putting a band-aid on something, it actually creates problems down the line. So it’s really a question of unravelling or untangling ourselves from this kind of immediate response; there’s the problem; this is the solution. This first-degree solution, by actually starting to look at layers deeper and deeper, to see how the systems actually need to be changed to address the challenges not on a symptomatic level but on a kind of root cause level. I think that’s where art, contemporary artists, and the training of critical theories and systems theories are amazing to actually work with. Very often they like to go deep, and they like to think in systems, and they like to actually look at the hidden infrastructure that enables these challenges rather than remain on the surface. I think the other possibility is that artistic practices are rather unthreatening.
People talk to artists because they don’t feel threatened by them, and on the other hand, the contemporary art space currently, when we think about programs and centres, actually demands this kind of multivocal, multidisciplinary contribution to the programming. So that audiences understand, get a full understanding of the challenges and possibly raise more questions than give an immediate solution. I think this is where working with the arts enables us to do a lot of things and bring them together in a space that is expecting this kind of full vocality of voices.
Do you see the ocean as a gateway to talk about water, as other bodies of water do not have the same unanimous appeal?
I think this is the beauty about the ocean and working with the ocean as a kind of starting point for actually coming to the conclusion that everything is connected. You can’t think about oceans without thinking about clouds, right? Everyone sees clouds. So I think this is exactly the beauty of this way of working. On the one hand, when you really start thinking with the ocean, you need to kind of abandon these land-based fixities and the certainty of being on land and start thinking with fluidity. You could obviously also do that when you’re thinking with air and air currents. What was important to start this project and start building knowledge was being in the field. In the first years until 2020 and COVID, twice a year we were inviting artists, scientists, environmentalists, legal experts and so on, onto a boat to be on the water, in the water, with the water, and think from there. This then gives you the understanding; it gives you a physical impression of what it is to be moved by the ocean, to be carried by the ocean too. It gives you this understanding of fluidity and flexibility, and it gives you an immediate understanding of it.
So many people’s interaction doesn’t go more than 500 meters from the shore, that is the limit of their interaction with the ocean.
Exactly, to understand the vastness of it but also to experience the feeling of, all of a sudden, being in a situation where there is no land, it’s a completely different thing. Though the physical impression is a completely different one. It is more difficult to really expose yourself to thinking with this fluidity and untether yourselves from these land-based logics. When you start there, then it’s exactly like you said, then you need to think about rivers and tributaries and lagoons and clouds, land degradation and sea level rise. Quickly you come to the understanding that you can’t think of one without the other.
The ocean is such a vast system on our planet with such immense functions in the earth systems. That to be in the city and not think about the ocean is actually a misconception.
People have more of a connection with the ocean and ultimately all other bodies of water end up in the ocean. Was this the reasoning behind the project being focused on the ocean?
For Ocean Space, obviously, we had dedicated ourselves before the opening of the space in 2019 and since 2011 to really look at and work with the ocean. That space was also the possibility to bring all of that together with a kind of liberty to talk about rivers, lagoons and so on. On the other hand, Venice is surrounded by national pavilions in a very fractured view of the world. A big view of the world, with competitions and buildings. The ocean connects everyone; even if we’re not a coastal community, the ocean is still the great connector through the atmosphere, through its functions, through the clouds and so on. It was also to make a counter proposition to the logic of Venice that has itself independently benefitted from the connectedness of the ocean massively, so it was playing with those ideas as well.
It makes sense choosing Venice as a location.
Venice at the time was definitely the iconic frontline of climate change in Europe; everybody was aware that Venice was sinking. This was long before we had these constant floods in southern Europe, all over Europe, and droughts. It made sense to actually situate this hypothesis that art and culture can be accelerants in not only the discourse around climate change, but actually also action around climate change.
To put it in this place (Venice) that people seem to cherish so much, a monument to the sustainable habits of humans. It’s a super complex environment in all fairness; therefore, it’s kind of a rich, infertile ground for artists to work and then unravel all of these entangled challenges.
Ocean Space focus has been on the Pacific Ocean in 2024 and will shift to the Caribbean Sea in 2025. The historical narratives of both these bodies of water have tended to be through a colonial lens. What role do these exhibitions have in deciphering the colonial memory that has been attached to these bodies of water?
This upcoming exhibition is informed by a three-year research cycle leading up to it. This is part of a curatorial fellowship called The Current, which is now in its fourth cycle. The first two cycles were in Oceania, the third cycle was in the Mediterranean, and now the fourth cycle is in the Caribbean. It’s led by a woman called Yina Jiménez Suriel from the Dominican Republic, who has been thinking for many years about contemporary emancipatory processes within the Caribbean. She’s thinking about this through a number of axes, one through geology, to do with the creation of the Caribbean plate that actually moved from what we know as the Galapagos. The Atlantic tectonic plates have pushed up the islands that we now know as the Caribbean. On the one hand, she’s really thinking about that, and then she’s connecting the kind of esthetic tools that were produced by the marooned communities. Touching upon the trauma for these people who banded together with runaway enslaved Africans to create these new communities. To be able to create these new communities, they developed a number of esthetic tools. One being constant movement and improvisation as an esthetic tool, meaning music, body, bodily expression and also writing.
She’s making that connection of the tectonic plates being constantly in motion, the culture still moving and starting to imagine the possibilities differently. Obviously, the marooned communities were strategic, driven into the mountains, but with the desire to return back to the shores. So the entire thing is thought of from a decolonial perspective.
The artists that will be present next year are Nadia Huggins from St. Vincent and Tessa Mars from Haiti. Nadia is a photographer and filmmaker, super engaged in St. Vincent in her daily practice, documenting the changes in the local seascape and being super active in the environment herself. Tessa is really connecting the watershed from imaginary, spiritual imaginaries, traditional imaginaries, and ancestral imaginaries, from the mountain tops to the watershed to the shores. So there’s watershed logic to the work. The format of the program is for two years; it is a public-facing collaborative research effort. It’s based on two moments in the year; one is field research, where a group of people, the curator plus five others, come together from different disciplines to have this time of collective thinking. Together, researching and immersing themselves in certain contexts. The first trip was to the Garifuna community in Guatemala, which is a marooned community. The second trip was to Panama, and we were generously hosted by the Smithsonian Tropical Institute, which also has a strong marooned relationship. After these trips, we do what we call convenings; these convenings are really kind of following festival characters and festival ideas. So they’re multi-formatted ways of sharing the insights and the questions that arose from being together. It’s between workshops, performances, lectures and screenings. It’s a two- to three-day thing. The first one was in the Dominican Republic, and the second one was in Jamaica at the Alligator Head Foundation, which is a marine conservation organisation that spun out of the academy nearly 10 years ago. This is not only a long-term engagement of Yina herself, but it’s a deep commitment from the organisation to these spaces that we then bring to Venice. Venice is then a possibility for these investigations to have an international platform. We’re already talking with a museum in Panama and in the Dominican Republic, and here in Jamaica for the exhibition, to travel back. Last year’s exhibition is now opening in Sydney in a couple of days. It’s part of the effort and also part of the demand of many of the curators and practitioners that we are working with that the work actually gets shown in the spaces.
It is another extraction of knowledge and artistic resources if these are taken to another place. How important is it that these treasures and artworks return to their origins and are seen by the community that they were created within?
Exactly, these moments of sharing are specifically designed to make that knowledge, or the way of being, the way of doing, available to a wider audience. In Jamaica, it was really amazing because it happened at an organisation that has been present in rural Jamaica for nearly 10 years.
The audience was quite fascinating because there was a large community from the art scene in Kingston, but then you had the director of the local high school, the president of the fishermen’s association, community tourism operators, members of the marooned community—it was a super diverse group of people. That’s really the beauty of it—that you have the possibility to address people in their spaces in a way that could be meaningful to them.
TBA21–Academy has taken a multifaceted approach to public engagement (TBA21–Academy, Ocean Archive, Ocean Space) that bridges the space between exhibit and visitor. Do you think this inclusion and collaborative nature has been a part of Ocean Space’ success?
I think so; it was very clear from the beginning that we wanted to be a space for Venetians, because very often in the past, through the international appeal of the Biennale, the Venetians didn’t necessarily feel invited. To have this really explicit desire to address local communities was really a proposition. This took a couple of years and I think COVID actually changed that quite dramatically. It was not necessarily easily decipherable in the first year because we opened with Joan Jonas, who is this huge international star. During COVID, we were one of the very few organisations that, when people could start moving around the city, put a light installation on the facade to signal something was happening, something was coming. When people were able to gather in larger groups, we would start organising these walks with all kinds of specialists, scientists, traditional boat builders, conservationists or art historians that had some form of expertise that was connected to the exhibition. They would tell personal stories of relevance to this group.This was really a moment where I think the Venetian citizens realised that this was an effort for them, and that changed the relationship dramatically.
Then it was about making connections with people that work in conservation, ecosystem restoration, food and food practices, farming to art to philosophy to science. Then to have a very dedicated program, an educational program for kids to expand the understanding of what ocean literacy could be through the arts. I think this is really where people start creating a relationship with the space that goes beyond just another art or cultural offering. It’s a really committed community, which is beautiful to see, and it’s a very diverse community. I think a number of articles have mentioned that it is really apparent when you go to programs at Ocean Space that it attracts an intergenerational, but also a younger community. From the last mapping that we did, last year we had 42% of the visitors from Italy. 14% were local Venetians and 40% were international. A lot of other spaces bank on the 21 million visitors that roll through Venice every year. So it’s a different effort; it’s more than a tourism activity; it’s a centre that is meant for some kind of lasting shift.
With an increase in AI-generated media being incorporated into creative artistic practices, where do you see AI becoming a more integral part of scientific artistic narratives in Ocean Space?
Especially in the last couple of months talking to scientists and directors of scientific institutions, I’m actually quite struck by how embedded AI as a tool already is. I feel that there’s no turning back. The vastness of the data that we now have means it is a fantastic tool to deal with. I think the question and criticality that artists, people from the humanities, and social or cultural practitioners bring is, How do we engage with these tools? How do we not only make it a fantastic product and super efficient time-saving tool but actually think through all of the layers of what it means? In terms of energy consumption, resource extraction, and real estate. What is the real estate that actually occupies or that hosts server farms? What are the resources? Who is being prioritised in the use of resources to service these server farms? Who owns the data? What about authorship? It opens up a whole host of questions, especially in terms of authorship, that we are not that willing to address within the arts community. There’s still this kind of infatuation with the singular genius, the artist, working alone in their studio, creating out of nothing. Which is not true for any thought or any idea—we are all standing on the shoulders of many, many, ancestors? I think AI challenges these ideas, but it also opens the question in a very productive way. At the end of the day, the vast amounts of data that it can compute will lead to insights that we were previously unable to see. There’s a lot of productive challenges that come with this tool, like the question of false narratives. We live in post-truth; let’s see what happens with post-reality; that’s going to be the next level. I heard a super interesting talk by a guy who wrote a book called Parenting An AI as a response to its unethical use. The first interface is yourself; you have to decide how you want to work with it as a tool. Not just as something that does your work; if you want it to work ethically, then treat it ethically. It learns from the way that you use it. Your responsibility as a parent, that you would extend to a child, how would that change your interaction with a chatbot?
We all live in an interconnected ecosystem, and our stories are inseparable. Do you consider Ocean Space embodies this universal approach?
In neuroscience they have been exploring that there is no direct line from information to any form of action. The pathway to becoming active is a lot shorter from context and meaning through empathy. I think this is one of the challenges with the environmental discourse and the climate change discourse. What does it mean for me? What does 1.5 mean? What does 1.6 or 2 mean? What about everything in between? Why not stick to 1.6 if we can to help? What does that actually mean? I think this is what we’re trying to do with Ocean Space. We take this kind of conversation that is happening in Oceania around extraction, ancestral knowledge, sacred spaces, community engagement, and community action. We then bring it back to Venice and try to land it right, so that it’s not just some kind of exotic discourse where you say, ‘Oh, they have such a beautiful relationship to the ocean. Isn’t it sad that now these companies come in and destroy everything?’. How does this become relevant for Venice? Tapping into the Venetian communities through rowing and reaching out to sports clubs and groups that have a relationship to the water.
The effort that we’re making goes beyond the idea of this as just an exhibition, something to come in, consume and then leave again. You’ve been inspired; maybe you’ve been disrupted; maybe you’ve been provoked; maybe you’ve learnt something, but it’s up to you. There’s this interface of meaning-making, which is very often done by the mediators, who are in an amazingly engaged group of people. They go to lengths to really make people feel welcome to unfold the information.
We could also just have security guards. You could make sure that people don’t steal anything, or you could have people that welcome you and take you on this journey, unfold the pieces, and make sure that it makes sense for where you come. Mediators are really incredible people doing exactly that. As long as we think only in economic terms and maximising profit, then we will just push these problems down the line, and they’ll get worse and worse. We can put all of our faith into technology to solve it for us—a technology that doesn’t even exist yet, right? Somehow there is an immense faith that it will come just in time for us to continue doing what we’re doing and consuming how we’re consuming and just remain consumers. For magic technology to come around the corner and save us to remain exactly the same way that we’ve always been, yeah, or at least been since the 50s.
Words by Markus Reymann
Introduction and Interview by Anna Borrie
