Kids, it’s been manic. So manic that my neat plan to keep a daily diary got swept into the canal with all the cigarette butts and tissue paper littering the side walks. At one point yesterday there was so much rain that the sirens went off while I was taking my much needed power nap. My friend Elena had to wade through St Marco Square barefoot in water up to her calves with giggling Japanese tourists taking pictures of her.

You see, the Venice Biennale is a parallel universe. A city where you move around in boats rather than cars and where your main occupation becomes viewing art, and often art in the loosest possible sense of the word. A dead body swimming in a pool in front of the Danish Pavilion proves my point I think (and no, it wasn’t a dead visitor who had read the sign above). Fucking Rats by Tim Nobel and Sue Webster is another example of the eccentricity of what you see at the periphery of such an event. You could have a mental break-down, rip out your hair and start walking on your hands and people would look seriously and appreciatively at each other nodding and saying “what a thought provoking performance.”

So, in a nutshell, anything goes. Obviously there is still good art and bad art but in the end its all about being there, seeing it all, and absorbing it like a paintbrush. There are spectacular pieces to be seen such as a work by German artist Hans-Peter Feldman. His shadow play of harmless toy figures attached to a circling platform was one of my favourites. At first glance they were but mere toys turning on a miniature merry-go-round. Upon closer inspection the shadows they cast onto the wall revealed a debauch orgy taking place between them.

I could go on for hours describing many more works I loved and hated, but you can read about it all in any daily paper so let’s continue with more of the froth than the substance, which you won’t read about.

The thing about the Biennale is it’s all about knowing the circle (the artists, the hot dealers and/or collectors). That’s when you have a blast. I see friends and acquaintances from all around the globe reunite in this spectacular little gem of a place. I have somewhat grown-up in the art world and have chosen to spend much of my adult life in it so for me its almost like being at home. Nevertheless, it always strikes me as bizarre to be with all these people in a place that is foreign to most of us. That’s probably also why art parties tend to be so much fun. It creates a sort of holiday illusion – finding ourselves in beautiful places and amongst people we are very familiar with. Really, life could be a lot worse.

Talking about the parties, the parties during the Biannale are almost as important as the Biennale itself. There are always a couple of parties considered to be the hottest ticket and everyone wants to be invited. Those parties are often the most boring anyway but you’ve got to go. There is a huge amount of pressure to be at the right one. Two years ago I spent half my night in a boat hunting from one event to the next. This year I learnt from my mistakes – its all about being selective with your attendance, you simply can’t have it all. Everyone ends up at the Bauer terrace anyway. Then there are tons of second choice events, some incredibly fun like the Nordic Pavilion rave at the Lido. The hottest parties this year were both hosted by Francois Pinault. The first being the highly anticipated opening of his stunning museum at Punta della Dogana. As expected the show and the venue were spectacular. It stretches all the way into the canal, showing many breathtaking works by the Chapman Brother’s, Cindy Sherman and many, many more of contemporary’s key works. The crowd was very expected too and after I had seen the works I was dying of boredom, standing amongst the Champagne sipping set. I quickly crossed the canal back to the Bauer Hotel – my provisional home and safe-haven.

Another highly anticipated event was the now legendary Vogue Uomo/Gucci Party at the Palazzo Gritti and really just another Pinault event. In the end the most exciting part was arriving by boat on the wobbly deck and being turned down by the hugely overwhelmed guest-list crew because they were unable to spell or read. Of course, the dyslexics were sorted out pretty quickly by an important looking supervisor who waved us in. Inside, again the palace and the art works made up for the lack of flair. It was stuffy and full so I said hi to some friends and danced on one of my favourite installations of the entire collection (of course the dance floor is a work of art too) and escaped. The fluorescent dance floor by Piotr Uklanski changes colours and made my night. What a work! I tried to convince my mother to get one but she wasn’t as convinced as I was, too bad! One day when I grow up I will get one of my own.

Talking about getting one, I saw another thing I would like to get. A serious-looking big chested bodyguard as seen accompanying Naomi Campell. Her big man was holding her Balenciaga clutch all night, giving her a light when she needed one and otherwise just shoving away people when she felt like moving. Albeit the man did look slightly ridiculous – standing like a log in front of her holding her purse like a little baby in his arms – but who cares?! In short, he’s the perfect company. I saw Naomi first at the Vogue party and we were all hugs and smiles. My sister and I had become quite close to her a few years ago while she was dating Flavio Briatore and was spending Christmas at his place in Kenya. I remember my sister and I having so much fun at their’s that our New Years night turned into spending half our holiday at their place. Naomi would come into our room and bring us big bags filled with make-up from the shows, telling us we could keep it. She would also lend us clothes etc. She was heaven. We hadn’t really seen her in a while so I was delighted to see her so radiant and happy clutching her new Russian man.

Talking about Russkis I had lots of fun last night at my friend Dasha’s birthday party on her boyfriend’s boat. This was probably the hottest party of them all because it was small (about 100 people) and you could actually breath, dance and move. I was with lots of friends, the moon was full and the music classic rock and 80’s pop. People kept on flocking in. The waiters walked around with super powerful lighters and cigarettes. You didn’t even need to move except in order to dance and there was plenty of room to do so on deck. It took a few Bellini’s to get the crowd moving whilst Elena and I were already jumping about. It takes very little to motivate me to dance and with such conditions – good music, full moon on a breezy deck and barefeet, well, it doesn’t get much better. I even invented a new work-out called dancing-on-mushy-and-deep-cushions-of-the-sun-beds. It’s perfect to tone up those thighs, by the way.

Naomi’s bodyguard was even more vigilant last night trying to protect her. I am not quite sure what from as the boat we were on was probably better guarded than Alcatras (they were even checking some peoples passports). I suppose having a bodyguard is a bit of a who- has- the- bigger- one- competition in Russia.

Oh yes, and I was supposed to leave for Rome with my mother yesterday but then decided to stay. What the hell, Venice is too tempting and a boat party is a boat party. So because travelling to Rome to catch my flight today felt too tedious, I caught a train to Zurich instead which takes twice as long and takes me only a little closer to London. Logical? Hardly, but at least I get to go to the Rachel Howard opening/dinner at Haunch of Venison in Zurich tonight and I will be seeing my brother whom I never get to see. Talking about Haunch, it seems to be the gallery I am groupying at the moment. After spending the entire day with Elena and her director Harry Blaine seeing art together I was dubbed a Haunchette by one. Zurich is of course also but a stone throw away from Basel, where the annual (and arguably most important) art fair previews on Tuesday. I might just pop by before swinging back to the good old Finchtowers depending on whether the offices can still survive without me.

So that’s a glimpse of my week here in Venice. It was both exhausting and fun. Some days I think I have the best job in the world while at other times I want to find the nearest emergency exit and run but that’s life and in the end it’s all in the name of research. More from the frontline soon. xx

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