Il Foglio, 16.06.2007

At the Venice Biennale, Sandro Fusina's heart has been won here and here by the (not by choice) minimalists from Romania. "They solved the problem of particpation in the 52nd International Art exhibition in Venice with a few thousand euros. They already had a pavillion, it was quite large, right next to the gardens. To erect it, they put a few cement sacks against the wall, that were probably already full of holes when they were bought, a wobbly table with a buffet pull-out, possibly from Ceaucescu's days, a porcelain dog with a broken ear and lots more junk that no garage sale would want. A monitor from an era long gone shows a fuzzy video. There are traces of white on the pavilion's linoleum floors – a clue that either covers or cleaning products were spared during the construction. Even the hostess was the least attractive of the entire Biennale."

Inspired by Elena Kostioukovitch's book "Perche agli Italiani piace parlare del cibo" (Why Italians like to talk about food), Fabiana Giacomotti takes a look at the connection between language and food. "The Italian language smells of oven and cupboard. It pushes bread between its teeth, chews, swallows and digests, while the English contents itself with disliking a particularly weak cup of tea. 'It's not my cup of tea.' Italian is a maccaroni-variation of Latin, as the cavalier and great meister of the baroque Marino school confirmed."