With the APS Contemporary Art Mdina Biennale almost at its mid-point, now is the time for reflection rather than propagation. As repeated, by myself and my colleague Nikki Petroni, this Biennale has been on-going for a number of years, with it being resuscitated under the careful and impassioned hands of Dr Giuseppe Schembri Bonaci three years ago. The first GSB-Biennale edition, for it should become a post-dating system by now, showcased an enormous amount of artists (about 120!) within the old castle of Mdina. This year, we decided to reduce and refine. Within a sea of bad aestheticism, maligned cultural attempts and asinine decisions, the Biennale presents itself as a burgeoning attempt in what one should aim to achieve.

The theme this year (as most of our readers know) is 'The Mediterranean: A Sea of Conflicting Spiritualties'. Politics, as it should, played a big part in most of the art works exhibited there. Perhaps one of the most intuitive pieces exhibited in the Mdina Cathedral Museum was Clint Calleja's stunning installation entitled Modern Argonauts. Presented within the central courtyard of the museum, the piece could be glimpsed from a variety of focal points - the side corridor surrounding the yard, the grand entrance following a set of steps, even from above. Calleja's piece reutilised a previous installation presented as part of his dissertation for the Masters in Fine Arts offered at the University of Malta. At that point, the boat shaped sculpture was envisioned for the Addolorata Cemetery, with a number of Maltese surnames carved into its sides. The difference, and I believe this is when the piece achieved its true potential, was the decision to amalgamate this pre-existing art work with a new piece of found art, thus transforming it into an evocative statement on the issues of the Mediterranean, the mass immigration experienced within our seas, and the problems of Maltese hubris. The streamlined shape of the 'Maltese' ship, the one exhibited in the Addolorata, was recreated in the APS Mdina Biennale, with the added impact of a crushed and fragmented rowing boat placed beneath the pointed stern. With painted coordinates onto the wooden panels of the unseaworthy boat, the deaths of those fleeing peril were represented, and thus an image of the last few minutes before their demise was recreated. The impact of the Euro-Maltese aid is portrayed through the sleekness of the other boat, presented at the moment of impact, as it is crushing through the 'immigrants' boat. This shows the tragedy of Maltese hubris, where while we trumpet our friendliness to foreigners, racism is still rampant.

This brings to mind an international example. Almost two weeks ago, Cards Against Humanity, the so-called 'party game for horrible people', bought a stretch of land on the Mexican border in an effort to halt Donald J. Trump's wall. When a private company seems to be taking a more active role in the socio-political sphere, without any possible rewards, it truly brings to question how dire the situation is. While this act may seem like another bead in the farcical necklace that Cards Against Humanity have been concocting, the future impact of this action speaks volumes. On discussing this "event" with my peers, some voiced their opinion of it being more than just another marketing ploy, transformed instead into a post-post-modernist performance piece, created as an outcry to the effects of politics, both with a capital 'P' and small 'p'. This is just another case in a multitude of cases that emerge. When my peer - friend - expressed this sentiment of what many consider as a gag to be actually a strong political art piece - I was rightly shocked. When did pure art - the art we see in galleries, museums, and auction houses - become so desensitised from the world around us? How can an act by a corporation trump (pun intended in its full glory) long-standing frontiers of the avant-garde, like the Turner Prize, the Venice Biennale, the Art Basel, and so many more? This action probably created by this games' creators on a whim offers a great platform for the discussion of Joseph Beuys' mantra: 'Everyone is an artist'.

The situation has become desperate, with non-experts and pseudo-professionals taking up the cloak of 'Cultural Administrators', proposing a number of ploys, exhibitions and events that rather than help the situation, they hinder it. Billionaire-funded galleries, deceased museums and swindling auction houses have swallowed us whole. Should we join them?