At the 61st Venice Biennale, the presence of the African diaspora extends far beyond continental representation, unfolding through complex histories of migration, memory, and cultural transmission. Among the most compelling contributions is the Pavilion of The Bahamas, which returns to the Biennale after a 13-year hiatus with In Another Man’s Yard: John Beadle, Lavar Munroe, and the Spirit of (Posthumous) Collaboration. Curated by Krista Thompson, the exhibition positions itself not only as a national presentation, but as a deeply layered exploration of diasporic identity, material transformation, and intergenerational dialogue.
Located at the San Trovaso Art Space in Venice’s Dorsoduro district, the pavilion marks only the second appearance of The Bahamas in the International Art Exhibition. Yet its return is anything but tentative. Instead, it asserts a confident and conceptually rigorous position within the broader Biennale framework, aligning closely with In Minor Keys, the curatorial vision shaped by Koyo Kouoh. Here, the emphasis on subtlety, process, and the “minor” finds a distinct articulation through Bahamian cultural practices and African diasporic aesthetics.
At the core of the exhibition is an intergenerational dialogue between the late John Beadle (1964–2024) and Lavar Munroe (b. 1982). Their practices, while distinct, are bound by a shared engagement with Junkanoo—the centuries-old Bahamian festival that serves as both cultural foundation and artistic methodology. Junkanoo is not merely referenced; it operates as a conceptual framework through which ideas of collaboration, transformation, and collective memory are explored. In this context, the exhibition becomes less about individual authorship and more about a shared cultural language.
Beadle’s work is deeply rooted in the material and social traditions of Junkanoo. Known for his use of discarded materials such as cardboard and salvaged tarp from Haitian sloops, he developed a practice that foregrounds what is often overlooked or undervalued. His recurring motifs—dysfunctional oars, mobile houses, concealed cutlasses—operate as metaphors for displacement, migration, and instability. These elements, while grounded in Bahamian contexts, resonate broadly across diasporic histories, where movement and rupture are central experiences.
Munroe extends and reinterprets these traditions through a contemporary lens. His sculptural practice, often monumental in scale, transforms remnants of Junkanoo costumes into complex forms that oscillate between the figurative and the abstract. Equestrian figures, hybrid creatures, and life-sized animals emerge from materials that have already undergone cycles of use and abandonment. This process of transformation is central to his work, positioning material not as static but as dynamic—capable of carrying multiple histories simultaneously.
A particularly significant aspect of the pavilion is its engagement with the concept of “posthumous collaboration.” Developed by Munroe as a way of honoring his late father, this practice is extended in Venice to include Beadle. Using materials from Beadle’s studio—most notably sailcloth from Haitian boats—Munroe constructs works that exist in dialogue with the absent artist. This approach challenges conventional notions of authorship, suggesting that collaboration can persist beyond death, sustained through material, memory, and intention.
The exhibition also foregrounds the memorial and spiritual dimensions of Junkanoo. In Bahamian culture, the death of a community member is marked by processional performances that celebrate and honor the life of the deceased. Munroe’s series of paintings depicting such a procession—based on photographs by Jackson Petit—serves as a tribute to Beadle. These works extend beyond documentation, functioning as acts of remembrance that bridge the personal and the collective.
This emphasis on spirituality is further enriched by Munroe’s engagement with African diasporic practices developed through his travels in Tanzania, Senegal, and Zimbabwe. These influences introduce a broader geographical and cultural dimension to the pavilion, situating Bahamian traditions within a wider network of diasporic exchange. The result is a presentation that resists insularity, instead highlighting the interconnectedness of African and diasporic cultural forms.
Curator Krista Thompson brings a deeply informed perspective to this project. As a scholar whose work has critically examined African diasporic visual cultures, Thompson situates the pavilion within a broader theoretical and historical framework. Her approach emphasizes the importance of what she terms “minor notes”—those aspects of culture and practice that are often marginalized yet hold significant meaning. Through this lens, the use of discarded materials and collaborative processes becomes a form of critical intervention.
The pavilion is organized by the Bahamas in Venice Committee under the aegis of the Ministry of Youth, Sports and Culture, reflecting a concerted effort to establish a sustained national presence at the Biennale. Figures such as John Cox and Amanda Coulson have played pivotal roles in shaping this initiative, drawing on extensive experience in both local and international art contexts. Their involvement underscores the importance of institutional support in advancing diasporic artistic practices on global platforms.
Importantly, the pavilion’s significance extends beyond its immediate presentation. It represents a strategic re-engagement with the Biennale as a site of visibility and exchange, offering a model for future participation. As the Bahamas in Venice Committee has noted, the goal is to establish a “blueprint” for sustained representation—ensuring that Bahamian artists continue to contribute to global conversations in contemporary art.
Within the broader context of the Venice Biennale, the Bahamas Pavilion stands out for its nuanced engagement with materiality and memory. While many national pavilions operate through grand narratives or overt political statements, this presentation works through subtler means. It foregrounds process, collaboration, and transformation, inviting viewers to engage with the complexities of diasporic identity in a more reflective manner.
The exhibition’s alignment with In Minor Keys further reinforces its conceptual strength. By focusing on what is often overlooked—the discarded, the collaborative, the commemorative—it embodies the curatorial framework’s emphasis on subtlety and depth. In doing so, it challenges dominant modes of exhibition-making, proposing an alternative approach that privileges resonance over visibility.
Ultimately, In Another Man’s Yard is not simply an exhibition; it is a proposition. It asks what it means to create, to remember, and to collaborate within the context of diaspora. It challenges the boundaries between life and art, past and present, individual and collective. Through its intergenerational dialogue and material sensitivity, it offers a powerful reflection on the enduring impact of African diasporic practices.
In Venice, where national pavilions often assert identity through spectacle, The Bahamas Pavilion offers something quieter yet profoundly resonant. It reminds us that within the layered histories of the diaspora, meaning is not always declared—it is built, shared, and carried forward.
