Defining the Encyclopedic Palace

“The key to understanding Venetians is rhythm—the rhythm of the lagoon, 

the rhythm of the water, the tides, the waves." - Count Girolamo Marcello.

I slept with Mrs. Dalloway last night.

            At 8:00 a.m. this morning though, my alarm clock shattered the silence. I chose to ignore it and stay in bed. As I stretched and reacquainted myself with my sheets, my comforter, my pillows, I came to something that didn’t belong there—Mrs. Dalloway. Did I really fall asleep reading her? Doesn’t that only happen to kids in bad tween movies? I grabbed the book, aimed for my bedside table, and missed. She made a “thunk” sound as she hit the floor. I felt bad—not bad enough to do anything about it—but still bad. What had Mrs. D. ever done to me? She brought beautiful language into my life. She gave me words that absorbed every aspect of a single moment. She taught me how to write.

I like words. Big words. Small words. Juicy words. Round words. Words that make you grab for your nonexistent pearls and cry out, “Dear God, No!” I just like words. I get them. I’ve always been drawn to beautiful language and the art behind storytelling, so it’s no surprise that my favorite parts of the 2013 Biennale was the curation. The exhibition just flowed seamlessly. I read the show in the context of the Encyclopedic Palace in three main parts: The first part; a beginning in actual dense knowledge of specific subjects—that transition to how we obtain knowledge—and ending with the ultimate question; what are the consequences of knowledge and the ability to instantaneously obtain it?

Brilliantly conceived and elegantly executed.