Frieze Art Fair

My brain is melting;I thought I published this months ago. Ah well

London October 2008

 

The importance of the Frieze art fair was made quite clear to me while buying an online ticket to the event. Peevish instructions accompanied every step of the process. Do this, do that, under no circumstances may you do the following. I realise that art is important, but was all this schoolmarmish instruction giving really necessary. Fortunately, having bought the ticket online, I could skip the queue in Regents Park. Not really a huge advantage as, although signs were placed at carefully measured intervals giving waiting times , these were never in any danger of being used and the one stating ‘two hours wait from this point’ seemed a touch optimistic. The small group of art enthusiasts was considerably fleshed out with people in black suits employed to herd unruly art viewers. Walk here, keep left, stay right; I had unpleasant flash-backs to the people-herding one endures at Heathrow - but without the crowds - perhaps they would arrive later.

 

The people who were there were giving the art a good run for its money. Green haired Goths - with more buckles on their boots that the entire mounted brigade- rubbed shoulders with elderly ladies in exotic purple gear ,who peered at artworks through bejeweled wingtip spectacles. The serious buyer was the one who actually bothered asking after the prices. ‘Oh anywhere up from 11000euros’ the airy reply of a young sales lady wafted into the ears of less courageous onlookers.

 

The sales ladies were a revelation; who knew that so many gorgeous young ladies were simply passionate about art. Black seemed to be the only clothing colour option. Much like ramp models that may not smile lest they distract from the clothing they are wearing ,these young ladies were obviously under instruction not to distract from the art works with outlandish clothing. What to do then about the glut of all-black paintings. It must be the gloom of global economic meltdown influencing the art world. I confess to being in an all black mood myself.

 

Interestingly, despite the constant harping that painting as an art form is dead, the overwhelming majority of works were in fact paintings. Probably a bit of strategic thinking on the part of the dealers - in a down market - to put up art that can in fact hang behind the coach. It must make the sale a bit easier if the buyer does not have to consider remodeling the house to accommodate the new art acquisition. There were however two sculpted pieces that caught my eye. Both in clear substance, one a cubic meter of clear resin(perhaps) in the centre of which floated a galaxy shaped air bubble, ‘the laboratory of a new universe’ I think it was called. It certainly drew the crowds and the craft of the thing alone was worth applauding. The other piece was ‘a continual vortex’. A large sphere of glass with a whirlpool of water dancing in its centre, this was mounted on a plinth at eye level, so the hilariously distorted faces of other viewers were visible behind the vortex. An interesting, possibly meditative piece, or a gym for the Koi.

 

On the painting side what stood out were very graphic, very large pieces consisting of thin sinuous green and brown acrylic lines racing and swirling over snow white canvas. These paintings were presented by several galleries. Must have upset the galleries but great exposure for the artist. However -as with most abstract art- the artist had found a groove and kept repeating himself. The paintings were admittedly intriguing from the - how did he do it point of view- the problem with this sort of art is once the how’s it done is discovered what is left? There is nothing there except a computer playing with lines that have been enlarged to impressive size. Fun, but telling art, that will have weight in five years time let alone 500? I doubt it.

 

While I enjoyed the visual spectacle of realistic paintings of mini cars and trucks all balancing on top of one another or arranged in compartments that reminded me of keyboard tabs, all this in various shades of yellow, the possible deeper meaning of it all was - as is normal in the art world of today -  on a strictly need to know basis so who knows and frankly who’s got the time to try and find out? Nobody really, perhaps not even the artist. I caught another snippet of information from an oriental buyer interested in a medium sized framed photograph of a wave. 35 000 USD was the quoted price. The oriental chap did not seem fazed at all, and he and the sales lady withdrew to the small private room all the stalls had in place to conclude the business end of the deal.  Other than that there were the usual comers of inexplicable art, ugly art, badly executed art and odd photographs that on the whole reminded me of the first year efforts we all produced in art school. Goodness knows, perhaps that is where the galleries are finding their great artists.

 

Is it possible that only the worst of creatives stay in the fine arts, the rest being snapped up by the design and commercial art studios of the world? I think it must be so if one considers the woeful state of the art market or rather more precisely the horrible stuff that is for sale. The shape of the art market itself depends on whom you are speaking to. The Frieze organisers have pegged this fair as their best fair yet, but the critics say the sales tanked and the auctions were dismal. But then the modern art market is all about spin isn’t it?  A market in which clever sales men and women control all things ART, perhaps that’s the problem.

 

Eaves dropping once again I overheard an elderly couple discussing a fabulous piece with a sales lady. Deciding that surely I must be missing something, I took time out to stand and concentrate on the offering in question, a series of sloppy lines in various shades of purple and green mud. What was the point? Was it in the colours or in the line or was it possibly a representation of a three day old bruise? What did the couple find fabulous about this piece?  All I could see was inexplicable ugliness.

 

Perhaps that is what art has become? A fairly ugly, meaningless and completely uninspiring object that is sold for more money than can possibly be justified? I have this old fashioned idea that art should have a function.  I believe the function of art is to ‘kick against society’, or to communicate to society that which it lacks ,or to communicate a higher ideal ,to provide some inspiration, and I further believe that art should be executed with great attention to craft. But even craft it seems is now no longer a desirable part of art. It is as if the artists revel in the slovenliness of their creations.

 

Contemporary art perhaps shows a mirror to our faces and says – to paraphrase Picasso- the world is ugly and incomprehensible why should art be otherwise. This is just a slippery escape route. Society has always been brutal and the world inhabited by millions who cannot see other than to prevent themselves from walking into a pole.

For art to emulate life is to degrade us all. Art should be an act of intellect that should attempt to be arresting enough to issue an invitation to deeper thought. And the invitation should have sufficient clarity to allow the recipient to at least to arrive at the right time and place, if they then don’t enjoy the occasion when they get there, well that’s up to each individual.

 

I think the true art lover - that person who does not need a middleman to tell him that the thing he is looking at is beautiful or has value beyond money - must despair at the things that pass as art today. I wonder how our descendants will view this era of art. Will there ever be a museum 600 years from now to which people will flock to marvel at our creations. I think our descendants will not marvel at our art but will shake their heads at the sad folly of it all or worse, fall about laughing.