In Venice, a show of provocative works ‘between art and film’ raises the temperature

‘Canicula’ – meaning the ‘dog days’ of summer, or the peak of a heatwave – is an appropriate name for Fondazione In Between Art and Film’s current exhibition in Venice (until 22 November 2026).

The institution’s exhibitions of commissioned film works are unique, not only in their support of a tough medium, but also for their unflinching response to world events. ‘Canicula’, curated by Alessandro Rabottini and Leonardo Bigazzi – respectively, the creative director and the curator of Fondazione In Between Art and Film – seeks to give a litmus test of how artist filmmakers are parsing the contemporary global landscape.

‘I think the shows are largely inspired by the time we're living in, but also try to make room for the work of the artist,’ says Rabottini. ‘[They] sit in a context. And in the last few years, the physical, emotional and psychological temperature [of that context] has risen so much.’

‘Canicula’ is held at the Complesso dell’Ospedaletto, a former hospital, hospice and respite space dating from 1527. An apocalyptic orange hue permeates the space, as the scenographers use light to seemingly pull the artworks off the screen and into the physical space.

‘The idea with this third show was to end a trilogy about atmospheric metaphors, but also provide a different mood, a different feeling,’ Rabottini adds. ‘The first two shows had a melancholic tone in a way, and we thought that we needed more of an aggressive feeling, because the metaphor was about excessive light and heat.’

The first film is installed in the property’s majestic 16th-century chapel, with the burning light searing through the towering windows, highlighting its baroque features and the single-channel work playing in the centre. Baby I’m Yours, Forever, (2026) is shot in a meat-packing plant and we see racks of meat hooks before we see bodies, naked, folded, combined and then dancing. Are we in a sauna or a nightmare?

'It is an allegory of sacrifice. So, you see a sequence of scenes that deal with this idea that life, in order to film itself, has to consume other forms of life,’ says Rabottini.

‘It's literally moving-image architecture within the architecture of the church. So it's basically like it's a work made of spaces and bodies,’ adds scenographer Ippolito Laparelli.

The second work is Boring Billion by Yuyan Wang, which explores the inner and outer life of robotics and machines through thousands of spliced found images. Liquid moves through pistons and screws while rubberised outers are placed over mechanical bodies; we see the flow of the making of robots and how they exist in the world. The results are both meditative and sobering.

‘It really deals with this overabundance of information and, in this case, the structural obsolescence of technology. It starts [with] current attempts to humanise technology,’ says Rabottini.

Further along is Lawrence Abu Hamdan’s 450XL: The Story of Fugitive Sound, which was a standout work for many people attending the preview week of the 2026 Venice Art Biennale in May, when the exhibition opened. Known for his sonic investigative work – he uses aural witness accounts and audio analysis in his investigations of human rights abuses – in Lebanon, Syria and the Golan Heights, the artist turned his attention to anti-corruption student protests that took place in Belgrade in spring 2025. During the silent vigil, the crowd was attacked with a sonic weapon, LRAD 450XL.

‘I did not choose Belgrade; the student movement chose us!’ says Abu Hamdan. ‘[After] the attack happened, our inbox was flooded with requests from many individuals who were attacked to investigate the incident.’

In the resulting work seen here, screens shaped like placards are staggered through what was once a hospital musical therapy room, and the gridded floor vibrates as viewers are encouraged to walk through the installation, as well as watch it at a remove. The students’ accounts of what happened combined with some simulations of the sounds used spell out the use of this sinister form of oppression.

‘At the core of our investigation were 15 “earwitness” interviews that helped produce the sonic identikit of the [artwork’s titular] fugitive and negated sound. Each of these witnesses occupies a screen in this installation; in this way they speak both as a collective and in their individuality. The installation is designed to use the screens/protest placards as a scenography for thinking through the power of collective silence and the emergence of new kinds of weaponry that seek to atomise its subjects,’ says Lawrence Abu Hamdan.

Elsewhere, Ukrainian duo Roman Khimei and Yarema Malaschuhuk present Wishful Thinking, 2026, an installation across three rooms in which we see Ukrainian actors enact the future regrets of Russian soldiers. Each of the rooms is made architecturally awkward and oppressive as the films play out tropes of regret from each soldier, at the end of their life, which vary from explanations to silent acceptance.

‘We thought conceptually that the future is not interesting anymore, that the future is boring, essentially. We know what will happen, everything will be good, whatever good means; we will still have these documentaries about these war criminals saying these boring things…’ they say of the work. ‘We usually deal with it after things have happened. What if we already know how this will be treated in the future? For now, there is no dialogue.’

Until 22 November 2026 at Complesso dell’Ospedaletto, Venice, inbetweenartfilm.com/en/canicula