The reopening of the Russian pavilion at the prestigious Venice Biennale has sparked outrage and renewed scrutiny over how sanctioned Russian elites continue to operate inside Europe under the cover of culture and private business.
Officially, the pavilion is no longer managed by the Russian state. Instead, it is operated through a private consultancy known as Smart Art a move critics say was carefully designed to sidestep international sanctions imposed after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.
But investigators and Ukrainian advocates argue the arrangement is merely a legal smokescreen.
At the centre of the controversy is Anastasia Karneeva, the pavilion’s commissioner and a key figure connected to Smart Art. Karneeva is the daughter of Nikolai Volobuev, a former FSB general and senior executive at Rostec the Russian state-owned military conglomerate responsible for producing weapons used in the war in Ukraine.
Also linked to the operation is Ekaterina Vinokurova, co-owner of Smart Art and daughter of Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov. Vinokurova is currently under sanctions imposed by Canada, the United States, and the European Union.
Critics say the setup allows politically connected Russian elites to maintain influence in Europe while officially distancing themselves from the Russian government.
The controversy deepened after leaked correspondence reportedly showed that senior figures connected to the Biennale may have provided legal guidance to the Russian delegation on how to structure payments through intermediary companies to avoid scrutiny from European banks.
According to the allegations, organisers defended the arrangement under the principle of “artistic autonomy,” arguing that cultural participation should remain separate from politics.
For many Ukrainian artists and activists, however, separating art from politics during an ongoing war is impossible. The dispute has also reignited debate over the historical origins of the Russian pavilion itself.
Russia has repeatedly defended its right to participate in the Biennale by citing ownership of the pavilion building, which dates back to 1914. Yet historians note that the pavilion was originally financed by Bohdan Khanenko, a prominent Ukrainian philanthropist and art collector.
The symbolism has not gone unnoticed. While Russia insists Europe must respect its cultural property in Venice, Ukrainian officials point to the widespread destruction of Ukrainian museums, theatres, schools, and homes caused by Russian attacks since the start of the full-scale invasion.
Away from the Russian pavilion, one of the Biennale’s most striking artistic statements comes from Ukraine’s project, Security Guarantees.
At the centre of the installation is a sculpture of a deer created by Ukrainian artist Zhanna Kadyrova. The artwork was evacuated from the frontline city of Pokrovsk to save it from Russian shelling.
Rather than displayed traditionally, the sculpture now hangs suspended from an industrial crane in Venice a visual metaphor for uncertainty, fragility, and a world suspended between war and diplomacy.
The installation also reflects growing doubts about the effectiveness of international security agreements meant to protect Ukraine.
Across Venice, another campaign is forcing visitors to confront the war’s human cost. The organizations PEN Ukraine and Network Associazioni per Ucraina launched the “Invisible Pavilion” campaign, placing posters around the city advertising literary readings and cultural events that will never happen.
The reason is devastating: the featured writers and artists are dead. Among them are Ukrainian author Victoria Amelina and children’s writer Volodymyr Vakulenko, both killed during Russia’s war against Ukraine. The campaign serves as a stark counterpoint to the Russian pavilion’s return, reminding visitors that the war continues far beyond the galleries and canals of Venice.
For critics, Russia’s presence at the Biennale is about far more than contemporary art. They argue it represents a broader test of whether sanctioned elites can continue using culture, prestige, and private intermediaries to regain legitimacy inside Europe despite ongoing international condemnation of the war.
As visitors move between exhibitions celebrating creativity and global dialogue, the debate unfolding in Venice raises a difficult question: where should the line between cultural exchange and political accountability be drawn during wartime?
“While Russia continues to bomb museums, destroy churches, and attempt to erase Ukrainian identity and cultural heritage, it cannot expect to use international cultural platforms to project an image of normalcy,” Kaja Kallas said. “Russia’s return to the Venice Biennale is morally indefensible, and the European Union intends to withdraw its funding support.”
From the EU’s perspective, the issue goes beyond art. European officials argue that allowing Russia to participate in major cultural events while the war in Ukraine continues risks undermining the bloc’s sanctions regime and weakening the political message of accountability. Brussels has repeatedly accused Moscow of targeting Ukrainian cultural landmarks and attempting to erase Ukrainian history in occupied territories, making Russia’s participation in a prestigious international art exhibition especially controversial.
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