Pussy Riot and FEMEN Protest at the Russian Pavilion at the Venice Biennale: “Blood Is the Real Language of Russia”
The dissident collective led by Nadya Tolokonnikova said they had repeatedly attempted to open a dialogue with Pietrangelo Buttafuoco in order to request Russia’s exclusion from the Biennale, but never received any response.
Pussy Riot against Russia’s participation in the Biennale.
At 10:30 on the morning of Wednesday, May 6, far from the official preview flows of the 61st Venice Biennale, a small group of journalists and activists gathered in front of the Russian Pavilion for a private briefing organized by Pussy Riot, the collective of Russian feminist activists, artists, and performers.
The atmosphere was tense, almost clandestine. No press release distributed through the institutional channels of the Biennale, no official press conference, no curatorial filter.
Leading the briefing was Nadya Tolokonnikova, the symbolic figure of artistic opposition to Vladimir Putin’s regime. Her position was immediately uncompromising: according to the Russian artist and activist, Russia’s presence at the Biennale no longer represents an act of cultural openness, but rather a symptom of Europe’s inability to distinguish between cultural dialogue and political normalization.
“The artists imprisoned for their anti-war positions are the real face of contemporary Russia,” Tolokonnikova stated during the briefing. “Not the propagandists welcomed into European pavilions.”
Tolokonnikova also declared that Pussy Riot had repeatedly tried to establish direct contact with Pietrangelo Buttafuoco, Luca Zaia, and Luigi Brugnaro in order to request Russia’s exclusion from the Biennale, but never received any response.
Pussy Riot and FEMEN Take Action at the 2026 Venice Biennale
At exactly 11am, the briefing turned into direct action.
In front of the Russian Pavilion, Pussy Riot and FEMEN, the transnational feminist movement founded in Ukraine in 2008, staged one of the harshest and most politically explosive protests seen so far at the Giardini. It was the first time the two groups had carried out a joint action together.
Wearing Pussy Riot’s iconic pink balaclavas marked with large black Xs across the face, the activists occupied the space in front of the pavilion, transforming one of the symbolic sites of international cultural diplomacy into a theater of open political conflict.
The Biennale security appeared completely unprepared. During the first minutes of the action there were no police officers present in front of the pavilion, while visitors, journalists, and art professionals slowly began to understand what was happening. The tension escalated rapidly as the crowd gathered around the protest.
According to information shared during the action, the Russian ambassador was also inside the pavilion at that moment, further intensifying the symbolic and political pressure surrounding the protest.
What the Pussy Riot and FEMEN Protest Really Meant
This was not a performance constructed for the art system, but an intrusion into its contradictions.
The activists openly denounced culture as a possible instrument of geopolitical normalization, accusing the Biennale of offering symbolic legitimacy to figures connected to the Russian propaganda apparatus while the war in Ukraine continues.
“Russia kills, Biennale exhibits. Blood is Russia’s art,” shouted FEMEN leader Inna Shevchenko during the protest.
The slogan then turned into a collective chant, repeated several times alongside the lyrics of DISOBEY, Pussy Riot’s manifesto-song against fascism, war, and political passivity. Throughout the action, the phrase “Blood is the only Russian art” echoed continuously while the audience surrounding the pavilion oscillated between shock, silence, and smartphone recordings.
For several minutes, one of the most symbolic spaces of international cultural diplomacy became the site of an actual political confrontation.
Questioning the Entire Biennale
According to FEMEN, every artwork presented today by Russia in Europe is inevitably crossed by the violence of war.
“You open this pavilion with champagne while Ukraine opens mass graves with shovels,” declared Shevchenko.
Suddenly, the Biennale lost its safe distance.
And perhaps this was precisely the central point of the action: the protest was not simply asking the art world to “take a position” against Putin. It questioned the entire mechanism through which the international art system continues to present itself as neutral while deciding who can be represented, welcomed, celebrated, or erased.
Because the question launched in front of the Russian Pavilion remains unavoidable: can innocent cultural diplomacy truly exist during a war?
