The festival can often make you queasy, as geopolitics are played out through the proxy of art. This year it feels on the verge of collapsing in on itself The festival can often make you queasy, as geopolitics are played out through the proxy of art. This year it feels on the verge of collapsing in on itself O n Tuesday, the Russian pavilion at the Venice Biennale was full of activity. Several pallets, piled high with cases of prosecco and a few boxes of good old English Gordon’s gin, had been