Initially encountering the Pavilion of Azerbaijan, just across from the queues entering the Arsenale for the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale, one is invited into a small foyer where an Azeri rug hangs besides the proclamation “Regenerate, Innovate, Preserve.” The motifs on this rug, as explained in the exhibition, are of a traditional style originating from the ruined village of Chalabilar, which was evacuated in 1993 during the First Nagorno-Karabakh War after being captured by Armenian forces. Reflecting the rug alongside the exhibition’s title, “Equilibrium. Patterns of Azerbaijan,” the Pavilion of Azerbaijan asserts, for the first time in Venice, the nation’s cultural and historical identity through architecture.
In a low-lit gallery as sleek and crisp as the models exhibited within, three design projects are framed within the respective themes of “Regenerate,” “Innovate,” and “Preserve.” A notable departure from the more speculative and theoretical nature of other national pavilions, the Pavilion of Azerbaijan exhibits recently constructed buildings, the meticulously detailed models apparently provided by their respective architecture firms. The first is a pedestrian bridge linking a revitalized industrial district in the capital city, Baku White City, to the corniche on the Caspian Sea. The second, also in Baku, is Victory Park, which is dedicated to the liberation of Nagorno-Karabakh and landscaped with the same patterns as the Chalabilar rug. The third, described as a restoration of the ancient mosque of Zangilan town in Nagorno-Karabakh, is a new mosque built next to the ruins of the former.
The projects are insistently described in terms of their timeliness and relevance, exemplifying Azerbaijan’s leading role in addressing architecture’s most pressing issues. Further, it is suggested that the pavilion and Biennale curator Carlo Ratti’s theme of “Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective.” are in full alignment with the priorities of the Azeri state. The statement of curator Nigar Gardashkhanova, for example, draws a direct line between Ratti’s theme and Azerbaijan’s forays into climate politics: “These projects are fuelled by the concept of ‘intelligens’—a collective intelligence that drives the country’s sustainable efforts at every level: regeneration, innovation and preservation. Azerbaijan's dedication to this cause extends beyond local initiatives, contributing to global sustainability goals and solidifying its role in international climate discussions. In recently hosting the 29th annual Conference of the Parties (COP29) to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) in 2024, the country underscored its leadership in climate action.”1
Azerbaijan’s hosting of COP29 and its appearance in Venice coincide with increasingly improved relations with the EU, with Azerbaijan regarded as a dependable alternative to Russia for European oil demands. Criticisms for selecting Baku to host COP29 on both environmental and human rights grounds were sidelined as the city was inundated with delegations from major economies and fossil fuel lobbyists, all sharing Baku’s vision of a “climate-mitigated” world. The acceptance and normalization of such contradictions continue in Venice: the COP29 Organizing Committee office building within the Baku White City project is touted in the exhibition as the first building in Azerbaijan to meet BREEAM sustainability benchmarks, suggesting the country’s pursuit of a greener future. However, the White City is located on the site of Baku’s former “Black City,” its oil-producing industrial zone that was razed and relocated after the pumps ran dry. As Eve Blau argues: “Baku now exemplifies development based on oil profit rather than a focus on the processes of its industry, the latter of which previously dictated much of Baku’s urban planning.”2 The transformation of Baku from a zone of extraction to a zone of consumption merely exploits architectural trends in sustainability, rather than being driven by climate urgency.
A similar contradiction is evident in the case of the Zangilan Mosque. In the exhibition photographs, a stark white marble and blue tile mosque juts out from the vast landscape, ringed by manicured lawns and an asphalt parking lot. In all directions around it, overgrown ruins of homes can be seen, only a few of which have roofs. However, this photo conceals the vast tracts of resettlement and infrastructural projects in Zangilan occurring out of frame, ostensibly to convey a sense of lone architectural resilience.3 This disjunction is clear in the project’s description: “Surrounded by green landscapes, the mosque's structure complements the natural environment, reflecting a deep respect for the land’s beauty and serenity. The design makes the mosque appear as though emerging organically from the very landscape it occupies, with nature and architecture coexisting in perfect harmony.” In the “abandoned” town of Zangilan, the mosque occupies; it is constructed to affirm its own existence as a state project, rather than to serve a religious purpose. Zangilan, whose people were forcibly expelled by Armenia in the First Nagorno-Karabakh War, is the last town on the road from Baku to Southern Armenia. Azeri politicians have made overtures that Zangilan will be the launch pad to annex southern Armenia, which ultranationalists claim as part of Western Azerbaijan. Serving to both naturalize the ruination of the town and assert its Azeri-ness, the new mosque embeds the land with a sense of permanent victimization while enabling future aggression.
Rather than depicting a cross section of contemporary architectural practices in Azerbaijan today, the curatorial strategy of this pavilion flatly conveys ideological and political state-building practices in post-victory Azerbaijan. In other words, the projects symbolize aspects of nationalist rhetoric and their analogs in both architecture and international exhibitions. Like its hosting of the COP29 summit last year, Azerbaijan’s contribution to the Venice Architecture Biennale aims to shape its international image by sanitizing and repackaging recent and ongoing territorial offensives. The danger of this architecture is that it serves as an analog to state desire, embodying the pursuit of all states for perpetuity and control into a digestible cultural product.
“Foreword," Pavilion of Azerbaijan, ➝. Emphasis original.
Charles Shafaieh, “Further Reading: Eve Blau’s Baku: Oil and Urbanism,” Harvard Graduate School of Design News, December 13, 2019, ➝. Emphasis original.
“One Year Passes Since First Families Settle in Liberated Zangilan District,” Azernews, July 19, 2023, ➝.
