Not all art is equal. Not all art is created equally.’ These thoughts randomly popped into my head as soon as I got off the train from Verona to Venice. I hadn’t planned to be at the pre-opening of this year’s edition of the art biennale. I was invited a month ago  as a courtesy, on account of my contribution to the publication by the Finnish Pavilion. I had been commissioned to write an essay entangling my writing practice with that of fellow Mumbaikar, Vidha Saumya, who is one of three artists representing Finland this year.

I’m not one for pre-openings or even openings. There are too many art world VIPs who take themselves too seriously. I find it anxiety-inducing to be in environments where one has to watch one’s tongue and be civil in a way that feels artificial or falsely intimate. It would also be the first time since the pandemic that I would be attending a large-scale opening. I carved out two days away from child-care and decided to immerse myself in the experience. It has been surprisingly fun. Mostly because I no longer have any kind of FOMO about being at events or trying to be invited to events. In fact, last night, after I caught up with two old friends I got to know from my residency in Venice, and their 28-year-old gay friend, I already sensed how our evening might go. Within the first 15 minutes of our reunion, we were cackling with non-alcohol-induced laughter and before our main course could arrive, decided we would rather spend more time with each other than go to the dinners or events to which we had been invited.