It’s been over a year now and I’m sick of talking about the down market! But the only quote I overheard at Frieze worth recording was from a blond girl wearing one of those generic olive-green suit jacket and shorts sets asking her friends, “this is what a bad market looks like?”
Baby girl, don’t you know? It’s all smoke and mirrors.
Never mind the recent numbers sparking dialogue that sales are only down in the blue chip department. Never mind the joyful potential of an art market with the impact it alleges to want to have. I’ve always felt that if the ‘market’ doesn’t come back, we’ll have bigger problems anyways. Thus, we all dive into one more year of life as usual. This was my fourth New York Frieze week. A friend I’ve known for eight years told me I have “wisdom” in my eyes recently, which mostly felt like a backhanded way of saying that these past four years have aged me.
We warmed up at the opening of Esther II on Wednesday—an enjoyable, digestible fair where 25 international galleries are presenting one or two artists a piece in the ornate, intimate setting of the Estonian House, on the far eastern reaches of 34th street. The works were pretty, young, aching, mocking. I took photos of a Rose Nestler sculpture that Mrs. brought, and another by Jasmine Gregory courtesy of Sophie Tappeiner. “I love divorce,” I looked over and told Jody Wood, who oversees the social practice MFA program at Texas’s Sam Houston State University.
I meandered Falcon’s R U STILL PAINTING???? show and chatted with a writer who couldn’t bother hiding how badly she wanted me to leave. I relieved her and headed to the opening of Locker Room’s new TriBeCa location. Then I went to write that application. You know the one.
After filing the next morning, I headed off for Frieze. Couldn’t believe how many writers I saw there, considering I arrived four hours after the spectacle opened—writers, mostly, who walked in determined lines, eyes straight ahead. Writers who don’t want to talk to me, or anyone for that matter, because their workloads are large and they’re so disillusioned with the constant onslaught of people trying to get stuff from them that they no longer trust anyone. I saw the same girl from the night before, said hi just to giggle at her look of exhaustion, and kept walking.
Frieze looked the same as last year, for the most part. The same galleries, in the same booths. The same Rob Pruitt sunset series. Tanya Bonakdar didn’t dare bring Sandra Cinto again, but I did get to see a Judy Ledgerwood painting from 2022 one more time, maybe, before it enters someone’s storage. We always think of art fairs as reunions. This year, for the first time, I felt that sense most strongly with the artworks, especially after 1-54’s opening yesterday reunited me with Felandus Thames’ gorgeously beaded “Either slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot” (2023) for the first time since it appeared in “Title IX” at The Hole two summers ago.
I ran into Meg Spectre after a shift staging a Pilvi Takala performance with nine other people—who all asked strangers whether they could keep a secret before offering little abstract pins. It was supposed to comment on fabricated intrigue. Meg said the other performers, mostly actors, were surprised by how mean the crowd could be about it. Meg’s been in the art world, she said, so she knows.
Of all four Frieze locations, it makes sense that New York would be the worst. Think about where it is. This is the worst part of the city. You can only go into this event trying to pick up on trends. I still like solo booths, like Jenkin Johnson’s mainstage presentation of Dr. Esther Mahlangu (who also appears at 1-54) and Casey Kaplan’s show of Hannah Levy’s sculptures. I am too grown up to be fooled by booth design like the mirrored floors at Anton Kern. Mor Charpentier once again had a standout booth, offering Medieval-inspired works by Malo Chapuy. I kept my eyes open for trends and only noticed an undercurrent of parchment-like artworks. By the way, can any of the art writers bitching about Jeff Koons from bigger platforms than mine please urge him to start an afterschool art program in his hometown? Do you know about York?
I fielded opinions on my second lap. One guy hates NADA but likes Frieze. He was just about the only one. Another friend said he liked NADA. I went to see for myself the following day. Most of the people who make me feel good about art were there—Storm Ascher of Superposition Gallery and Jenna Ferry of Trotter&Sholer, as well as Rain Lu and Darla Migan and Rob Dimin, all of their own eponymous art dealerships.
A lot of the work at NADA looks the same. Karla Knight and Ellsworth Kelly knockoffs abounded, amidst a metric ton of figurative painting. Save for a sculptural booth or two—including Spinello Projects’ sublime show of stoneware sculptures by Nina Surel—it’s actually almost entirely painting. And yet, I managed to find new artists I’ll remember. Hesse Flatow, who might have the only photography booth on view, is offering pieces from Andina Marie Osorio’s family archive that bees have chewed into abstract shapes. Here she’s appropriated the secret of marrying two hives by placing a newspaper between them. The bees then bond by eating towards each other. There’s no way you can talk with everyone at an art fair. All an art writer can do is follow her gut.
At NADA, I discovered the beloved French sculptor Floryan Varennes’ American debut at Xxijra Hii Gallery—ahead of his work purportedly going up at the Louvre—and heard from CON_ that their artist GILLOCHINDOX*GILLOCHINDAE is devoting seven years of his practice to a body of work animating his own sort of manga, not only through mixed media panels but also through installations and parties—which reminded me that one of the most moving events I attended this past week was the launch of the collection “Writing on Raving,” which had no real ties to Frieze.
There, co-editor Zoë Beery recounted realizing her Berghain cohorts didn’t share her politics. But Beery didn’t dwell on it. She still found her collaborators. No one is forcing me to do this work. I complain about the parts I want to change, but I really love it. The party isn’t distracting.
Categories
Tags
- Casey Kaplan
- CON_
- Darla Migan
- Dr. Esther Mahlangu
- Esther II
- Floryan Varennes
- Frieze New York
- Hannah Levy
- Hesse Flatow
- Jasmine Gregory
- Jenkin Johnson
- Malo Chapuy
- mor charpentier
- Mrs.
- Nina Surel
- Pilvi Takala
- Rain Lu
- Rob Dimin
- Rose Nestler
- Sophie Tappeiner
- Spinello Projects
- Storm Ascher
- Superposition Gallery
- Xxijra Hii Gallery
- Zoë Beery
