Challenging the Vão and Niemeyer’s architecture
Considered a major symbol of Brazilian modernism, the Ciccillo Matarazzo Pavilion, which houses the Fundação Bienal, was built in 1954 along with Ibirapuera Park and other buildings designed by Oscar Niemeyer for the city of São Paulo’s fourth centenary celebrations. When not inhabited by the second-largest biennial in the world, the building hosts various types of events, from fashion shows to entertainment and technology. If you are aware of the building’s architectural and historical importance, the sight of the wide, empty, bare building, with its multiple levels, columns, curves, and glass walls is stirring, but also frightening.
Amid these grandiose modern narratives, it’s almost impossible not to feel the impact of the large columns that support the building, starting from the basement and climbing up to the top level, embraced by an open, empty space with its dancing, serpentine mezzanine. It’s possible to see the other end from any point, on every floor. From the ledge, you can see the floors below or above. The empty space created by the mezzanine on three floors, which invites you to discover the space, is known in Portuguese as the “vão”, or pit. While the straight, well-defined lines of the entire building bring stability, the transparency of the glass seems to integrate the concrete interior with the calming nature outside. Both the vão and the wide, open spaces give the impression that everything is always within reach, and it is here that decolonial perspectives equip the public to inhabit such a space in other ways.
A well-known feature throughout the history of the Bienal de São Paulo as an exhibition highlight, plans to enclose the mezzanine was the target of criticism and curiosity when the architectural project was first announced. With few gaps, the walls that close off the open space are connected conceptually to the perception that knowing everything is a modernist illusion and secrets are also part of the stages of knowledge, as shown in religions of African origin. Architecture that invites us to walk around, like in a capoeira circle, to pay attention to unpredictability, to get lost in labyrinths, take risks and see whether a path will take you even deeper inside or to an exit, looking for one room and discovering another, finding colors on the walls that were once all white. At Choreographies of the Impossible visitors encounter architecture that absorbs, elaborates, and updates the characteristics of the original pavilion and, at the same time, creates spaces that constantly challenge our paths and senses.