Part 1 – Archipelago: the soul of Europe at the heart of the Biennale

There are moments and places where the future seems to condense. Where ideas are rehearsed, concepts take shape, and experiences and results are shared—alternative ways of doing and living. Being in Venice during the opening of the Biennale Architettura is undoubtedly one of those moments. And this year, with the Archipelago of Possible Futures summit, that feeling was especially vivid.

What you hear when the microphones are off

The event truly felt like a marathon of talks and perspectives, as several speakers described it during their interventions. It was an intense day, full of voices, formats, and viewpoints, with little room for informal conversations or unhurried exchanges. Yet in the midst of all that density, gestures, glances, and fragments of dialogue emerged—giving shape to another kind of conversation. One that doesn’t always happen on stage, but that also helps make sense of things.

The venue was stunning: Ocean Space, the deconsecrated church that TBA21 has transformed into an ocean-focused art centre. I came with a minimal setup: a small camera, a travel tripod, and the desire to capture something of what was unfolding. It wasn’t just about recording, but about understanding. About listening, yes—but also observing how people were trying to name the challenges ahead. Some from within their disciplines (art, science, politics, technology, philosophy, architecture, and more), others from shared or hybrid territories.

A summit with NEB spirit

Archipelago was many things at once: a satellite event of the Biennale, a curatorial experiment, a lab of ideas—and above all, an act of cultural translation. Curated by Francesca Bria and José Luis de Vicente, the summit aimed to bring together Europe’s cultural, scientific, and technological communities to engage in meaningful dialogue with policymakers. The goal: to help shape the future of climate, industrial, environmental, and innovation policy in Europe, through a lens that connects infrastructures, imagination, and justice. From digital sovereignty to ecological regeneration, from urban design to public artificial intelligence, the summit served as a space where those connections could begin to take form.

Archipelago was born within the framework of the New European Bauhaus. As Francesca Bria reminded us at the opening of the event, this summit emerged during the NEB’s first mandate as a platform to place culture and the arts at the centre of conversations about the future of the Green Deal. Conceived as the cultural soul of the European Green Deal, the NEB proposes that the ecological transition should also be aesthetic, participatory, and just. Archipelago brought this ethos to life: bringing together voices from culture, science, and technology to imagine new infrastructures—digital, ecological, and cultural—capable of supporting a more just, democratic, and inspiring European transition. Not only a space to showcase, but a space to ask: what kind of future are we designing, and through which languages do we want to build it?

The Biennale as backdrop (and mirror)

The summit took place alongside the Biennale Architettura. That was no coincidence. The Biennale’s curator, Carlo Ratti, opened the programme with a talk expanding on this year’s central theme of “intelligence”—natural, artificial, and collective. Venice itself, amphibious city saturated with history and exposed to climate collapse, stood as both a symbol and a warning—a place from which to reflect on our relationship with land, water, and memory.

And the location, Ocean Space—led by Markus Reymann and TBA21—acts as a kind of artistic laboratory for ocean protection. Visitors were welcomed with an installation from the exhibition “otras montañas, las que andan sueltas bajo el agua” (other mountains, adrift beneath the waves), especially the piece “A shipwreck is not a wreck”. It seemed to tell us—if we weren’t already convinced—that beauty must be part of the solutions we build for our possible futures.

Archipelago as testing ground

At the heart of the summit was a question that also runs through our work at Munkun: how do we use digital, narrative, and technological tools to imagine (and build) a more livable future? That’s what brought us to Venice—to connect with the most inspiring initiatives and the people asking the same questions we ask ourselves.

And that, for me, was the most valuable part of this marathon: that other conversation. The one that doesn’t require microphones or formats. The one that lives in the margins—between small gestures and quiet moments. The one that doesn’t always get recorded, but still echoes when you return.