This is NOT Frieze, but at least it's pleasing to the eye
Frieze 2007 was an odd mix of hideous car crash (almost impossible to look away) and day shelter for all manner of over-dressed, self-important buffoons. More than ever, this year's Fair was about art as commercial product at best and the cultural equivalent of a diamond encrusted toupee at worse. While some of us silly idealists would like to believe it’s just one fantastical gigantic art gallery, the reality is that it's now just a barometer for what's HOT in the most crude, reductive way possible and little else. The chatter and debate around the works displayed no longer about their relative artistic merits because who needs pesky subjectivism were we’ve got solid, tangible numbers. How many people want it? How much are they willing to pay? and how quickly can we shift the next one?
The tickets are overpriced, the staff rude (bad attitudes and Wormwood Scrubs bag searches on exit) and the facilities only serving to reinforce the loud and proud hierarchy of the whole event. The Le Caprice cafe and various security heavy VIP rooms made me feel as if I'd accidentally staggered into Mahikis, I imagine the crowd is much the same-Euro-trash, Euro-glam, Euro-dreadful. But beyond all the oversized sunglasses and inescapable braying was some interesting art. I always enjoy San Francisco’s Jack Hanley Gallery, Keegan McHargue’s stylised, almost surrealist prints were amazing. The cabinet, based in East London, had an incredible display of old modernist books and prints-I was interested to know the history behind the collection but with Frieze as a whole, it was all about Show as opposed to Tell. Art without any context can be frustrating and the lack of any artist background (or in some cases even a name) to accompany left you feeling, once again, this wasn't here to inform but to encourage you to dig deep in those pockets. Anyone who peeked into the storerooms behind each stand, stacked to the brim with ready to take home prints and paintings, were quickly reminded that this was a product like any other.
The concept behind Rob Pruitt’s ‘Flea market’ at Gavin Brown's Enterprise was admirable, many reviewers feeling it was Frieze finally injecting a bit of much needed humour into proceedings. The vintage clothing stand had me fondling an amazing sequined Calvin Klein top for a good fifteen minutes and there was an excellent selection of second-hand books with some sweet cover designs that appealed to the penguin design addict in me. However, it still felt a little like a slumming-it theme park for the hordes of Vuittoned art tourists. A fiver for a plastic badge anyone? In the end I bought a couple of Dash Snow designed tattooed transfers (based on the shot of the bruised man), partly because as a child fake tattoos were my life but also because they were the cheapest thing on sale and I find it almost impossible to leave a shop without a purchase. I’m happy to say this 1 pound coin was the only cash to leave my pocket during the whole event.
As the day wore on I started to tune out of the art (suffering from acute visual overload 3 hours in) and tune into some of the many loud conversations that were taking place around and about. Apparently Lucien has finally returned from Prague and I’m pleased to announce that Jonas has been put on the judging panel for the Biennale, he’s busy with the foundation but he’ll make time some how. Trying to look conspicuous as I eavesdropped into Hedi Slimane’s mobile call got me nowhere, the man knows how to whisper so I’m just going to go with ‘negotiating a signature range of black patent frying pans with John Lewis’.
Now I should probably say at this point that I’m not some kind art socialist attempting to bring down the establishment and sock it to the man. Art has long been climbing the top ten wealth accessories chart and galleries have always had their contingent of champagne Charlies looking to add ‘Very Important Collector’ to their list of achievements (translation: status purchases). Admittedly, all the silliness is entertaining in small doses-and more importantly, without those willing to splash the cash the scene would be a mess. However, art likes an audience and for the main it’s us ordinary folk doing the looking on. Unfortunately Frieze has not so slowly and very surely edged out those with a genuine interest in contemporary art (cash-shy but enthusiastic) in favour of those there to make a statement about the current condition of their hedge funds. Whether the quality of what’s on show is affected is a whole other debate for someone far more knowledgeable than me, although you can’t help thinking that everything seems less challenging for a reason.
Claiming that ‘The fair provides an environment to introduce and showcase new and established artists to visitors from around the world’ seems a little disingenuous when you consider all the pomp and ceremony Frieze goes to great lengths to create (the less said about the opening night shindig the better) and while it continues to insist it’s all about the ART they’re fooling no one. This is The Ideal Home Exhibition in Gucci loafers. See you there next year then, yer?
Words: Lena Dystant
Illustration: Anaïs Bougault