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As what remains of
the public domain is increasingly privatized, art fairs are becoming the
real museums of contemporary art. It's not a coincidence that the
London-based Frieze Art Fair's inaugural appearance in New York City
includes a panel titled "Expanding Museums" featuring the directors of the
Museum of Modern Art, the Whitney Museum of American Art, and the
chairperson of the Metropolitan Museum's Modern and Contemporary Art
Department. It's also not a coincidence that a version of Edvard Munch's
The Scream sold at a Sotheby's New York auction for $120
million—the most ever for an artwork at auction—the day before
the Frieze Art Fair opened. Furthermore, it's probably not a coincidence
that Frieze is scheduled for roughly the same week as wallets are being
opened for Sotheby's auctions of Impressionist, modern, and contemporary
art. And it's not a coincidence that on the day I visited the art fair I
signed an online petition supporting the unionized art handlers that
profit-pumping Sotheby's has locked-out for more than nine months. On a
similar note, Frieze New York instigated its own labor troubles when it
decided to use non-union workers to erect a massive 250,000 square-foot
tent to house the fair on Randall's Island Park in the middle of the East
River.
None of this is irrelevant to a discussion of New
York's first installment of the Frieze Art Fair because it cannot be stated
more clearly or less euphemistically: it's first and foremost about sales.
As with any good business, this means keeping the product fresh as well as
catering to consumer tastes. New York City's annual Armory
Show—somewhat diminished this spring with a defection of major
galleries to Frieze—used to be a place to identify favored artistic
styles (e.g., the year after Andreas Gursky's 2001 MoMA retrospective and
amid all the talk about photography that looks like painting, the Armory
Show was full of large-scale color photos). Yet trends are tough to spot at
Frieze this year, where the work feels consistently homogenous. It's
difficult to pick out showstoppers, such as Mierle Laderman Ukeles's
mirrored sanitation truck at the 2007 Armory Show, though Liz Cohen's
conversion of a mass-produced East German car into an American hot rod
(Trabantimino [2002–2010]) at Salon 94 aims to come close. If
anything, bright colors are perhaps the most commonly shared trait on
display, which might seem odd or superficial to say, but two different
friends I ran into at the fair—one an art historian/critic, the other
an artist—both confirmed the neon quality to the art, and not only
because Tracey Emin's work (neon and otherwise) appears in the fair's
crucial secondary market.
Overall, the penchant for neon
seemed indicative, bordering on garish, perhaps, in the way that luxury's
grin can turn rictus. Appropriation and a shaggy version of Pop art
continue to be dominant modes of the day, which helps explain Josephine
Meckseper's popularity and why her work feels completely declawed in this
context. But with abounding color everywhere, it's not a surprise that
abstraction is a recurrent strategy: from Rudolf Stingel's suite of
paintings gracing Gagosian's space, which has been transformed into a
near-pristine white cube (even the floor seems shinier than any other
booth), to Walead Beshty's vibrant photographic abstractions at Regen
Projects. Sarah Sze makes a strong appearance with two wall-climbing pieces
that as their titles indicate—Random Walk Drawing (Air) (2011)
and Random Walk Drawing (Grey Landscape) (2012) at Tanya Bonakdar
and Victoria Miro, respectively—expand her sculptural investigations
into drawing and painting. As with much of Sze's work, they're
self-contained universes that don't need an accompanying
one—institutional, discursive—to breathe life into
them.
At the same time, it isn't simply their
black-and-white contrast that makes works by Barbara Kruger, Adrian Piper,
and Hélio Oiticica shine. Kruger's large-format Too Big to
Fail (2012, at Sprüth Magers) is positioned near the south
entrance to the fair—the one used by visitors arriving via car
(including a fleet of BMWs for VIPs). Kruger's repurposed declaration is
exactly the kind of "lite" ironizing that art fairs love to cast upon their
market impulses, but in terms of direct political commentary—and
links to the Occupy Wall Street movement—Kruger's work is a rarity.
At the north entrance, for those visitors arriving by shuttle bus, ferry,
or yacht, Elizabeth Dee's area includes six early black-and-white videos by
Adrian Piper that similarly stand out, and not only because film and video
are otherwise in short supply. Some of the best work under the big tent,
and among the most interesting booths at the fair, belongs to Oiticica at
Galerie Lelong, which is an exception in offering both a mini-retrospective
and a thematic featuring art by established and emerging Latin American
artists. Oiticica's two C-prints (originally 1973) containing appropriated
images of Marilyn Monroe decorated with lines of cocaine are among the most
striking in the show. I'd buy them.
It used to be that art
fairs staged talks, projects, and special commissions as "interventions"
into the market format (the art world fluttered when Jacques
Rancière gave a lecture at the London Frieze Art
Fair in 2005). Frieze New York has plenty of these this year,
although they've been seamlessly integrated into the weekend, including a
workshop conducted by Tim Rollins and K.O.S., a commissioned short story by
Rick Moody (though Bret Easton Ellis might have been a more appropriate
choice), a talk by Robert Storr on Gerhard Richter's Atlas, artist
interviews, audio pieces, more panels, an outdoor sculpture park, a short
film by Allan Sekula with footage from Art Basel Miami Beach, a children's
education program, and even an app. Perhaps most telling is a booth
featuring the original plaster cast portraits from John Ahearn and
Rigoberto Torres's 1979 exhibition "South Bronx Hall of Fame." Originally
done free of charge for members of a community experiencing severe economic
hardship, this time around, visitors to Frieze can sign up to have casts
made by Ahearn and Torres for the right price.
ALAN
GILBERT is the author of the book of poems, Late in the Antenna
Fields (Futurepoem), and a collection of essays, articles, and reviews
entitled Another Future: Poetry and Art in a Postmodern Twilight,
(Wesleyan University Press).
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