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Today we joined art critics and journalists from around the world in the Giardini -- the gardens at the far eastern end of Venice where the Biennale is centered.

Over the course of the 20th century, nations have built individual pavilions here where their artists exhibit their work. Some are by famous architects (Carlo Scarpa for Venezuela, Josef Hoffmann for Austria) in the International Style, making the Giardini a virtual theme park of the Modern Movement.

Others chose a traditional architecture. The U.S. pavilion is in the latter camp - a mini version of Jefferson's Monticello, except it says "Stati Uniti" (Italian for United States) over the entrance.

The featured American artist this year is the late Felix Gonzalez-Torres, whose works emphasize the ephemerality of life and the ravages of AIDS. One work is a large rectangle of candies on the floor. Visitors are encouraged to take a piece, so that it gradually diminishes (and is periodically replaced) at the same time it is dispersed among the participants. The poetry of simplicity.

Those of you who took part in Radford University's East Central European Cultures Festival this past year know that there is strong literature, drama, and art being created in that part of the world these days.

I was pleased to see that Serbia is well represented at the Biennale this year by a young sculptor named Mrdjan Bajic. His works combine spatial inventiveness with the kind of narrative content many people look for in art. A large floor piece reminded me of the Statue of Liberty, thogh the sun rays that burst forth from that work in New York Harbor become something akin to architectural elements in Bajic's Angel.

Poland's 1930s Modern pavilion was entirely filled by a metal skeleton, akin to the structure of a steel-framed building. You were encouraged to climb in and through and up into the frame. Sort of a giant jungle gym for art lovers, it is the work of a young woman named Monika Sosnowska, who told me that she intended that it seem barely contained by the pavilion itself -- a symbol of Postmodernism breaking free of Modernism.

Not all is so serious, by any means. The British artist Tracey Emin -- better known for gritty reflections on her working class background -- adorned the British Pavilion with a lovely neon bird.

And our last image is of a couple who we fondly remembered from the 2005 Biennale. They are about as tame as it gets around here sometimes.

Intro | The city | Opening day | Theme park | Strong statements | Art tourists | Contra art