This began in 2022 as a non-authorised (by the Biennale) idea to “disrupt the nation-state logic of the Biennale by superimposing the map of Yiddishland, an imagined territory without fixed borders or strictly defined national identity, on the cartography of the Biennale”. Yiddishland attracted artists and creatives, Jewish and non-Jewish, who wanted to explore this less structured idea.
Anna Kamyshan previously contributed to a 2025 Yiddishland project, with her idea of a floating synagogue which would be suspended above “the major capitals of Yiddishland — New York Berlin, Warsaw, Antwerp, Tel Aviv, Montreal and London”. But there was no physical structure at the time, only Kamyshan’s AI-generated video.
However, the idea was so charming that it was decided to apply formally to be a collateral part of the Biennale – and actually to make the shtetl synagogue a reality. Maria Veits admits she was doubtful about whether it would be accepted, as other art installations featured at previous Biennales have usually been tied to some national pavilion. But to her surprise, the Biennale did accept the floating synagogue, although the location was changed from in front of San Marco to a less tourist-heavy area, the Arsenale Nord.
Nabatele, by its very floating identity, is apparently not attached to anything, but instead appears in the air, subject only to the weather, the winds and the tides. In fact, of course, the synagogue will be firmly moored above the city, and will be on view until September.
The helium-filled, double-membrane shul balloon, which is 12.25 metres high and seven metres wide will rise up to 25 metres above the lagoon. Its movement follows the rhythm of the atmosphere – ascending, descending, drifting. On calm days it soars; in wind it lowers toward the water, negotiating gravity and buoyancy in constant dialogue with the sky – becoming a sanctuary that exists everywhere and nowhere at once.
One of Anna Kamyshan’s inspirations for Nabatele was the knowledge that for hundreds of years, Venetian Jews were obliged by law to have their synagogues on the topmost floors of their tightly packed buildings in their ghetto, the original community of that name. So to some extent, we are looking at a synagogue which has escaped, and Anna jokes that her synagogue is a little like the animated film “Up”, in which a man’s house similarly sheds its earthly bonds.
For her, she says, “Nabatele represents Jewish identity, in that we can feel good everywhere but can’t necessarily call anywhere home. And we have a light inside the synagogue because all human souls have an inner light.” She adds that for her contemporary art has “no boundaries, but it also has to be joyful”.
Making the transition for Nabatele to go from a notional synagogue, to becoming a physical object was “extremely challenging”, Kamyshan says. “At times I thought it was going to be impossible.”
In fact, as Maria Veits made clear, the project has required a huge production team with engineers, and parts of the structure being made in Germany and Spain before being shipped to Venice for final assembly.
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And Veits — who is immensely enthusiastic and proud of Nabatele — notes that in addition to overseeing the structure, Kamyshan was involved in intensive fund-raising to finance the whole thing.
Veits describes Nabatele as “a reminder of visibility and invisibility”, something which could be applied to Jewish communities throughout the world. And once the Biennale is over, the international pavilions dismantled and Nabatele once again tethered to the ground, it’s hoped that Kamyshan’s original idea of floating her little synagogue above the rooftops of other capital cities could still come to pass.
Nabatele takes to the air above Venice on July 16 and will be available to view throughout the Biennale until September 16.
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