“We Forgot That Everything Around Us Is Necessary for Our Survival”: Koen Vanmechelen in Venice

A few days before the Biennale vernissage officially begins, Venice already feels overtaken by the art world, thanks to the wave of collateral openings and private foundation dinners unfolding across the city. Arriving at Palazzo Rota Ivancich, carefully dodging spiky umbrellas and lit cigarettes, the narrow calli outside are dense with visitors moving between events. Entering the historic building, the noise of the city softens into something slower – and stranger. Belgian artist Koen Vanmechelen’s We Thought We Were Alone reveals itself room by room with the logic of a dream. The space resembles something between an uncanny laboratory and an abandoned theatre.

Across the palazzo, apes perch above globes, serpents weave through Murano glass chandeliers, and hybrid creatures stare back with unnerving stillness. The show, curated by James Putnam, pulls you into a shifting ecosystem where beauty and unease sit side by side, and where the boundary between human, animal and mythological form begins to dissolve. Ahead of the opening, Vanmechelen speaks with Something Curated’s Keshav Anand about hybridity, mythology, evolution and the perils of believing humanity exists apart from the rest of life.

Keshav Anand: The name of this exhibition, We Thought We Were Alone, feels both philosophical and ominous. What was the thinking behind the title?

Koen Vanmechelen: The title comes out of more than 40 years of artistic practice. My main body of work, the Cosmopolitan Chicken Project, deals with hybridity. I started with domesticated animals like chickens, looking at how, for years, we pushed monoculture and industrialisation, while life itself depends on diversity. If you work with life, you have to work with diversity, and we forgot that.

After more than 30 years of crossbreeding projects, I started asking myself: what is going wrong in the world? Of course, many things go right, but many things also go wrong. One of the problems is that humanity sees itself as the centre of the universe. We forgot that everything around us is necessary for our survival.

We moved from using nature to abusing it. Consumer society pushed us in that direction, and now we are dealing with the consequences. At the same time, there is another layer to the title. One part is about finding balance with our environment, but another part asks whether there is other life beyond us. We behave as if this is the only life that exists. So the title also opens up a more spiritual way of thinking, which art has always done.

Then, because we are here in Italy, in Venice, you also start thinking about mythology, gods, history, and how all of that connects to our present way of living. The exhibition becomes a way of questioning how we live and how we might imagine another kind of freedom.

KA: Did the context of Palazzo Rota Ivancich change the way you saw your work? I’m curious whether this setting revealed things you had not noticed before.

KV: Absolutely. First of all, we renovated many parts of the palazzo. It is one of the oldest palaces in Venice and it has an incredible history, but it had not been maintained properly for a long time. What I love is that it still has this beauty inside. There are delicate drawings and paintings everywhere, but it is not overloaded with Baroque decoration. That gives space for the art to breathe.

The shadows inside the building create another life for the works. They allow the sculptures to appear differently. Some places transformed completely during installation. The room with the catwalk and the smaller sculptures was originally one of the worst spaces imaginable, but it became one of the most beautiful. We also worked with the colours of Venice, the blues and greens. The whole atmosphere of the city enters the work somehow.

KA: In the exhibition text, there’s this idea of “moving beyond human thinking” that comes up repeatedly. I wanted to ask what that actually means for you, and whether there was a moment when you first started thinking in that direction.

KV: First, you have to dissect what you are. Humanity itself only exists because different human species crossed with each other. If Neanderthals and Homo sapiens had never crossbred, we would not exist. Then there is the animal within the human, what I call the wild gene. I think it is important to stay aware of that. If you look throughout history, people have always asked the same questions: who are we, where do we come from, where are we going? That reflection is necessary.

One thing I think about a lot is how evolution softened us. Grass, flowers, trees, feathers, all of these things softened the world. But now we cover everything in concrete. We are making the world harder. If you look at prehistoric life, it is rocks, fire, meat, aggression. There is no softness. I think we are becoming harder with each other because nature is disappearing around us. So in a way, thinking beyond humanity is necessary for our own survival.

KA: That’s a very poetic way to put it. You had mentioned during the walkthrough that this year marks the 30th anniversary of the Cosmopolitan Chicken Project. When you make new work, do you see everything as evolving from previous projects, like mutations in a way? Or do you think of different bodies of work separately?

KV: I see everything as evolution. The exhibition I am making now would not have been possible five or ten years ago. It is about accumulated knowledge. Technical knowledge, philosophical knowledge. One thing builds upon another, and over time the work becomes richer in both content and expression. Of course, sometimes you fail. Failure belongs to creation. But with this exhibition, I feel the different sentences of what I have been trying to say are finally coming together in a strong way. The language of the materials may be different from the earlier crossbreeding works, but it is still the same language underneath. It is still asking the same questions.

KA: The exhibition includes sculpture, film, music, glass, even the collaboration with Youssou N’Dour. Is there an idea that connects all these different strands of your work?

KV: For me, it is all about collaboration between disciplines. If you visit my studio at LABIOMISTA, you will see scientists, biologists, social entrepreneurs, musicians, all working together. One of my statements is: fertility comes from the outside. You need the other in order to exist. I need scientists to fertilise ideas that I want to express, but scientists also need artists. It is through this mixing that new statements emerge.

When I began 40 years ago, art and science were seen as completely separate worlds. That never felt right to me. Renaissance artists were deeply engaged with society, science and philosophy. So I created foundations where scientists and artists could work together. The knowledge coming from science enters the artwork, and the knowledge coming from the artwork can also influence science. Now we live in what I would call a cosmopolitan Renaissance. Today, interdisciplinary thinking is much more accepted, but when I started, it was very different.

KA: You spoke earlier about the technical complexity of working with glass in Venice. I would love to hear more about that process.

KV: Glass is incredibly important, because you have to think differently when you work with it. As a sculptor, you might work in clay or marble, but glass is another world entirely. You have to think in advance. Once the process begins, there is no hesitation. The most important thing is that you have to trust the glass master completely. The relationship takes years to build. In the beginning, the craftsman almost resists you because you are entering his world. But slowly you develop a shared understanding. You learn discipline. If you do not have discipline with glass, you destroy everything. What you see in the exhibition is the result of years of consistency, dialogue, frustration and trust. Nobody can simply walk into a glass furnace and suddenly create these works. It takes time.

KA: There are a number of classical references in the exhibition: Medusa and the Three Graces, for instance. What draws you to those mythological figures?

KV: I really began engaging deeply with that world when I had my exhibition at the Uffizi Gallery. It felt like entering into conversation with the great masters. Humanity needs storytelling. History gives us one form of symbolism, but we also need new symbolism. The Medusa sculpture is very important to me because I wanted to reposition what Medusa represents. Traditionally she is this dangerous woman who turns people to stone. But today I see her differently. I see her as a healer.

The venom of the snake evolves into something else. The snake becomes a bird, the bird lays an egg, and that egg can become medicine. So Medusa transforms from a figure of fear into a figure of healing and strength. The same goes for the Three Graces. Beauty changes, but beauty still exists. We may look at an iguana or an egg instead of a classical ideal body, but I still see beauty there.

KA: Curator James Putnam pointed out the inclusion of the marine iguana and the land iguana side by side in the Three Graces work, but all sorts of animals appear throughout the exhibition – snakes, a vulture, a koala, a cheetah, a hyena. Why these particular animals?

KV: Every animal is chosen very carefully. I spend a lot of time in Africa because my wife is from Zimbabwe, and I think constantly about the relationship between humans and animals. Humanity always wants to tame animals or use them. The iguana is struggling for survival under human domination. The koala depends entirely on trees that are disappearing. The vulture sits on a broken finger, questioning the balance between survival and destruction. Each animal carries a different symbolic and ecological meaning, but they also connect to different continents and cultures. The vulture belongs to Europe and Africa. The koala belongs to Australia. The polar bear belongs to the Arctic. The exhibition is about interconnectedness across cultures, species and environments.

KA: What was the process of working with James like?

KV: Very important. I think every artist needs a critical mind beside them. James and I have worked together for many years, and we understand each other well. He is someone I can really speak openly with about the work. A good curator helps you kill your darlings. They tell you when something is too much, or when something is missing. Building an exhibition is like writing a book. It has to speak to people.

KA: You described the exhibition as a “cocoon.” Visitors enter from Venice, move through the space, then return to the outside world. What do you hope they leave with?

KV: I think the greatest gift is simply that people begin thinking. Thinking about humanity’s position in the world and how we move forward. That is what contemporary art should do. We live in a moment where we are projecting the future. The exhibition is almost like a machine that transports you somewhere else for a while. A place where you think about the future we are creating for the next generation. But I do not want to be a teacher. I dislike that position. I only want to create a space where reflection becomes possible.



We Thought We Were Alone by Koen Vanmechelen is on view at Palazzo Rota Ivancich in Venice until 22 November 2026.



Feature image: Koen Vanmechelen, 2026. © Koen Vanmechelen. Photo: Kris Vervaeke