I recently saw international pop star Rosalía play a sold out concert in front of 20,000 people, but that wasn’t my most important musical moment of the past month.
Close contenders for the top spot would be my club experiences in Berlin: The all-vinyl dub techno set at Kater Blau, where I followed my deep breaths and grooved freely to the minimal thumping bass rhythms. Or the sunny disco house morning at Sisyphos, after the Berghain bouncers turned me away, all by myself rejoicing to the jubilant upbeat sounds wondering, “how do I let go? cuz the thought of losing me keeps me dancing to be free.”
But the one seemingly composed for me was a sound installation inspired by the life and work of Hildegard of Bingen. Presented at the 2026 Venice Biennale, “The Ear is the Eye of the Soul” is a deep listening experience curated by Hans Ulrich Obrist, Ben Vickers, and Soundwalk Collective at the Giardino Mistico (trans. “Mystic Garden”) dei Carmelitani Scalzi, the site of the Holy See Pavilion.
Hildegard is the same 12th century German saint that inspired Rosalía's monumental single “Berghain”. But in the Giardino Mistico there was no orchestra, no strobe lights, no subwoofers, and no perfectly chiseled backup dancers wearing all black.
ENTRATA
It was about noontime and another 35ºC day in Venice when I reached the garden, a translucent hazy sky the only respite from the beating sun. I checked in with the greeters, put on my headphones, and entered.
From that moment and for the next hour, I listened to a continuous mix blending compositions by many of my favorite artists, including Moor Mother, Brian Eno, Kali Malone, Patti Smith, and Laraaji. The garden was (invisibly) divided into sections, each assigned to one of the artists, and as I slowly walked the mix organically transitioned from one piece to the next. Slow-motion soundscapes suspended. Towering organ movements. Voices offered in prayer, poetry in incantation.
In one sense, the garden itself was unremarkable. Yes, many plants flourished. Grapes on the vine. All manner of flowers. But on a hot day such as this, one would be unlikely to linger there long, except to stop at its few shaded spots.
The music, however, encouraged slowness. It was like an immaterial guide saying, “Step mindfully here. Pause here. Notice your breath. Step there, look at the insects at their work. See the shadows coming and going? See your thoughts like that. Come, here is one color, here is one sound. Here you are in the midst of it all. Enjoy.”
USCITA
When my hour was up, I reached the end of the exhibit and walked toward the exit in the same way I had stepped through the garden—slowly, mindfully. When I removed the headphones, the artists’ ambient wash faded away, but the sounds of the world remained. Birds chirping, the cicadas whirring, crowds of people and the busy boats of Venice arriving and departing.
The Giardino Mistico sits next door to the city’s bustling train station, Santa Lucia, which feeds thousands of tourists every day into the streets, bridges, and shopping areas along the Grand Canal. Stillness and haste, side by side. Yet emerging from the soulful musical bubble and now joining the throngs of people, I walked beholding everything: the sounds, the sights, the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun.
I only had to walk a couple blocks to meet my friends at an osteria. Casually drinking wine and picking at cicchetti, they watched me through the window as I arrived.
“He’s still walking like he’s in the garden.”
