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12.14.2006

All's Fair: Basel Miami (Painting)

Imagine Costco on steroids and filled with art. Now throw in a carnival atmosphere, tradeshow commercialism, museum reverence, fashion attitude, and the frenzy of Filene’s Basement when the bridal gowns go on sale.

Add sublimely beautiful contemporary paintings, modern masters from the secondary market (like Ad Reinhart from his pre-somber period in three booths), big-ass sculpture, inventive installations, cartoon imagery and some rice and beans (I’m not kidding). And, hey, why not include the oversize figure of a man performing a physically impossible scatological function? Like the blind men describing an elephant, no one perception comes close to describing this event but together they create a pretty good picture of this behemoth of a show.

© Joanne Mattera, 2006 www.joannemattera.com

Saleswise, it was a dealer’s dream. I overheard this conversation between two exhibitors:
He: "How are you selling?"
She: "It’s good. It’s good."
He: "Everybody is selling everything! It’s crazy!"

Lucia Madriz: Money Talks, rice and beans, dimensions variable; painting by Robert Schaberl, both at Galeria Jacob Karpio

Ron Warren, director of the Mary Boone Gallery, which was changing its one-artist installations daily, put a finer point on it: "We sold out the Barbara Kruger show by 2:00 p.m. yesterday." It was the first day of the show. When I was there on Thursday, the show was of David Salle’s paintings and many, according to Warren, were sold. There were no red dots, but "sold" was resonating at a low frequency throughout the booth. Indeed, throughout the fair.

By the way, the lack of red dots was no indication of sales one way or another. According to one dealer I can’t name, most of the work was already sold before the show went up. "It’s the dirty little secret of these shows," she said. "Seventy percent of the work is spoken for beforehand, but the collectors like to say they bought it at Art Basel."

A little background

Basel Miami is set up with a hierarchy. The main show is composed of galleries whose booths are in the center of the exhibition space. The bigger galleries have bigger booths. I don’t have exact figures, but I think we’re in the $50,000 range for a mid-size booth. The newer or "emerging galleries" ring the room as part of the less-expensive Art Nova section. The designation Art Kabinett on a booth’s sign indicates that a museum-quality show is on display; typically there is a historical component, and the installation is more restrained than on the Midway, er, elsewhere in the hall.

Finally, Art Positions is out on the beach in Collins Park in shipping containers repurposed as exhibition spaces. It was too windy most of the time to go that close to the shore, and besides, I ran out of time, so you’ll have to get someone else to tell you about it. For the most part I’m skipping titles and sizes. (To be honest, it’s because I can’t read my own notes.) The installation images will give you a sense of scale, and if you want to know more you can go onto the gallery website, which is live-linked if you see the name in red.

Painting
One thing the Convention Center has in abundance is space, so there’s plenty of room for large painting and sculpture. What pleased me most were the geometric abstractions, in particular the most minimal ones in which color floated in and over the surface. That said, it was the big, brash geometric abstractions of Sarah Morris that initially drew my eye. She had work at Berlin’s Hetzler Gallery
and London’s White Cube.

Sarah Morris: Hetzler Gallery (above) and White Cube (below). Both paintings described as "household gloss on canvas"

San Francisco’s Jack Hanley Gallery showed Chris Johanson, whose painting is worked in a more rectilinear manner. In Two Artists Talking, the blog I write with artist Chris Ashley , we looked at the blocky abstractions of several painters (Helen Miranda Wilson, Marco Casentini and Richard Schur), and Johanson’s work has a strong visual kinship there.

Chris Johanson’s geometric abstraction at Jack Hanley Gallery

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The best discovery for me was the work of Yuko Shiraishi at London’s Annely Juda Gallery. Shiraishi, a Tokyo-born woman now living and working in London, paints reductive linear abstractions with a precision of line and delicacy of color. Her palette teeters on the edge of pretty, but the pristine geometry of the composition and the muscularity of the size (about five feet squarish) negate any sweetness. If Agnes Martin had been Amish, this is what she might have painted, don’t you think?

Yuko Shiraishi: Equipoise, 2006. In foreground: Crack and Warp Column by David Nash, both at Annely Juda Fine Art. Below: Diverge and Diverge 2, both oil on canvas, app. 60 x 48"

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Imi Knoebel, whose work I encountered for the first time last year, did not disappoint. His work occupies a place between painting and sculpture. Some works are flat against the wall while others, definitely planar, are installed in a way that makes you consider the space around and behind them. He showed work with at least two galleries, the international (New York, Paris, Zurich) Galerie Lelong and Hamburg’s Galerie Vera Munro. Take a look:

Imi Knoebel: Gelb (Yellow; above) with installation view at Galerie Vera Munro

Luiz Zerbini, another artist I was pleased to revisit, works in that same sculptural painting/planar sculpture zone. His work, as last year, was at Fortes Vilaca from Sao Paolo. Brazil has an abundance of galleries with a strong program of geometric abstraction. Galeria Millan Antonio, also in Sao Paolo, showed an unlikely beauty in lavender and pale ultramarine by Paulo Pasta.

Luiz Zerbini: Paisagem Inutil (Useless Landscape, above), acrylic on wood and canvas, at Fortes Vilaca; Paulo Pasta at Millan Antonio, both Sao Paulo

As for abstraction without the geometry, five large paintings drew my attention. The first was the cinematic Donde Llegar by Corinne Wasmuht at Cologne's Galerie Gisela Capitain. The second was by Hiroshi Sugito at Berlin's Arndt & Partner, as sweetly intimate as a larger-than-life painting can be.

Corinne Wasmuht: Donde Llegar at Galerie Gisela Capitain; Hiroshi Sugito at Arndt & Partner


The third and fourth large abstractions were by Tomory Dodge, a young painter from Los Angeles, at New York’s CRG Gallery .
Dodge’s paintings dance on the edge of image and materiality. Thick impasto defines a delicate suggestion of waterscape, for instance, in gestures both crude and refined. And the fifth was by Lydia Dona, a veteran painter, represented here by Jacob Karpio Galeria with a brash orange painting as unconstrained as Sarah Morris’s is perfectly plotted and contained.

Tomory Dodge at CRG Gallery (above); Lydia Dona at Karpio Galeria

The interesting thing about seeing so much large, large, large is that when you come across small you look, look, look. Thus was the case with Richard Tuttle’s five small paintings and a singular sculpture at Sperone Westwater. Tuttle’s work always beckons for a closer view anyway.

Richard Tuttle: Reservations, 1999, five painted constructions, each 15x15 inches, and Space, 1964, acrylic on linen on wood construction, at Sperone Westwater

Up shortly: All’s Fair: Basel Miami (Sculpture, Installations)

All's Fair: Basel Miami (Sculpture, Installation)

If there were a bumper sticker that said "I Brake for Martin Puryear " I’d slap it on my Jeep. I love his work. So when I came across a large Puryear sculpture at Chicago’s Donald Young booth, of course I stopped.

(c) Joanne Mattera www.joannemattera.com


Martin Puryear: Confessional, wire, mesh, tar, wood, 1996-2000

On view was a large, dark, full-bodied object. Puryear’s work often has an anthropomorphic quality to it, and this large piece was no exception. To me it was shaped like an elongated head, yet its mesh skin suggested—as his work often does—a basket or shelter. Like no other artist I know, Puryear’s work dips into the river of what it means to be human, by suggestion (the shape) and association (the forms we need for basic survival) as well as a higher calling (it’s art, after all).

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At
Carlier Gebaur, the Berlin dealer, Michel Francois’s silver "balloons" are nicely contradictory to the open skin of Puryear’s work. Solid seeming, they hang suspended from nylon wires, unable to transcend gravity. It’s a shock to realize they’re blown glass—and thus extremely fragile—unprotected from the hoards of curious lookers. They’re also extremely beautiful, an earthbound, vitreous cloud.

Michel Francois, Souffles dan la Verre (Glass Bubbles), blown glass of different sizes suspended on nylon wire, at Carlier Gebaur. Detail below


Here’s what else I loved: Anish Kapoor’s large concave disc of polished stainless steel at Lisson Gallery, which distorted the reflection of its observers. Strangely it's not do much a funhouse-mirror thing as it is an opportunity to think about how we see. Did you see hisSky Mirror in Rockefeller Center a couple of months ago?


Anish Kapoor: Untitled, stainless steel, 2005, at Lisson Gallery

Across the corridor was a quiet and beautiful installation at New York’s Cheim & Read Gallery:a large pink-and-gray marble sculpture by Louise Bourgeois and three cast metal hemispheres by Lyndas Benglis. Both sculptors are masters of multiple materials. Indeed at Galerie Karsten Greve, Bourgeois was represented by drawings and a sculptural head of stuffed cloth.

Two views of Louise Bourgeois’s marble sculpture (foreground) and Lynda Benglis’s hemispheres on the wall, at Cheim & Read

After the weight of marble, a ring of tape kept aloft by dueling floor fans was a lark at Spencer Brownstone. I loved its mutability--a kinetic, dimensional drawing barely more substantive than a smoke ring or a circle traced by a finger on frosty glass.

Zilvinas Kempinas: Ring of tape at Spencer Brownstone, New York

At Galeria Luisa Strina, yet another Sao Paulo gallery, wooden trowels were stacked about the corner booth. The geometry of the installation--quite beautiful--was in keeping with the purpose of the trowels. Think walls, buildings, the Pyramids, even. Still, the reference to manual labor seemed ironic in a venue where the art was going for millions. Then again, perhaps it was a testament to laborers--artists included.


Marepe (I think): Installation of wooden trowels at Galeria Luisa Strina

The carnival atmosphere I mentioned earlier is personified by three galleries: the joyful installation at Mexico City's OMR Gallery, the nothing-is-as-it-seems environment of reflective and transparent surfaces at Berlin's Neugerreimschneider, and Emmanuel Perrotin's cheerful sideshow where that scatological contortionist drew smirks, gasps, quizzical looks--and probably a buyer.

Basel Miami: part festival (Galeria OMR)....

...part funhouse ( Neugerreimschneider, above), and part carnival sideshow (Galerie Perrotin)


After two days of heavy looking, I was approaching art overload, so it took me a moment to realize that this was not, in fact, a sculpture but fire safety equipment.

You know you're on art overload when you stop to look at the safety equipment. Well, it is sculptural

Basel Miami is a tumult of booths and people. You may start out trying to follow the grid of the map—I did, anyway, because on paper it’s orderly—but looking is rarely a step-by-step process. You follow your eye, not your plan. Talk about being distracted by color and shiny objects. Of course you stop to chat, and then you find yourself walking back in the direction you just traveled. But because you’re approaching the booths from a different direction, you’re seeing things you missed, so you stop to look. Then chat, then find yourself walking in another direction. In two separate visits to the venue, I think I saw everything but I’m not sure.

Which brings us to Gavin Brown's Enterprise. Holding down a prime corner spot, this New York gallery was bare except for gray industrial carpeting and two catty-corner benches at the periphery. There was a crushed and empty cigarette box in the middle of the floor. But wait, it was moving. First slowly and then faster. Stopping. Starting. Inching upward and then crashing soundlessly to the floor as people crossed the empty expanse. It’s an installation, of course. Art, manipulated high above the crowd by a complex mechanical arm that swung in a circle, then folded on itself to trace a smaller arc, pulling the invisible string up or down. That Camel box going in circles, doubling back on itself, soaring and then crashing seemed nothing so much as a metaphor for the Basel Miami experience.

As of December 7, according to that day’s issue of The Art Newspaper, two editions of this sculpture by Urs Fischer at Gavin Brown's Enterprise had sold for $160,000 each

Next up: All’s Fair: Flow

All's Fair: Flow

We go from Basel Miami at the Convention Center, the largest fair (204 galleries) to Flow in The Spy Lounge at the Catalina Hotel, the smallest (18). But don’t let that tiny number fool you. This was a terrific show: cohesive, articulate and friendly.

(c) Joanne Mattera www.joannemattera.com

The "friendly" part was built into the fair’s criteria. Producers Matt Garson of M% and Julie Baker of Julie Baker Fine Art, invited galleries from around the country not only for the quality of their programs but for the personality of the dealers. They wanted an attitude-free zone. And they got it. Of all the fairs, Flow was the most fun.

Flow Fair at the Catalina Hotel on Collins Avenue

Let me start with a disclaimer. I’m represented by two galleries that showed here: Kenise Barnes Fine Art, which included several of my paintings, and the Marcia Wood Gallery. But I’m not the only one saying nice things about this show and its galleries. Robert Ayers filed his December 8 Art Info report with this lead: "If we were to offer a "Fairest of the Fairs" award, then…Flow would be the front runner."

The virtue of a small fair such as this (and of Aqua Art, which I'll tackle in the next blog installment) is that it's just not possible to saunter and browse. Smaller exhibition spaces make for more concentrated viewing.

At PDX Contemporary Art I loved the work of Marie Watt, who reclaims materials for her geometric collages (you could also call them stitched paintings) and sculptures. I’ve seen this Portland, Oregon, gallery at other fairs and am always impressed with director Jane Beebe’s esthetic, which includes a strong object and textile sensibility

Marie Watt: Sculpture (wood) and collage (wool) from reclaimed materials at PDX Contemporary, Portland, Oregon

Across the hall, Miller Block Galley was featuring the work of, among others, Jane Masters, who creates embroidery-like drawings with a fine-pointed burning tool. I pulled this image from the gallery’s website because my own shots in the room were too blurry to use. (Low light and small quarters = many out-of-focus images.)

Jane Masters: Fusspot, burned paper, at Miller Block Gallery, Boston


Kenise Barnes Fine Art featured an installation in which pattern and color prevailed: Margaret Lanzetta’s fern-and-floral arabesques, Tricia Wright’s geometric florals, Mary Judge’s compelling monoprint mandalas, and my own small, slub-textured color fields in encaustic.

You get an almost 360-degree view of the installation at Kenise Barnes Fine Art in this image and the ones below. From left: David Collins painting, Lucy Fradkin framed gouache figures on paper; my three Silk Road paintings; Margaret Lanzetta large-scale arabesques. Below: Kenise standing in front of a painting by Tricia Wright

Mary Judge's mandala monoprints at Kenise Barnes Fine Art, Larchmont, New York

At the Roy Boyd Gallery, pattern and color also prevailed. This Chicago gallery shows a number of artists whose work never disappoints: Marcus Linnenbrink, Carlos Estrada Vega (see my mention of his work in the blog, Two Artists Talking) and Teo Gonzalez.

Here's Roy Boyd, sitting amid the Linnenbrinks

Carlos Estrada Vega: Walt, oleopasto on individual canvas-wrapped squares, 10 x 10" at Roy Boyd Gallery, Chicago

The installation at the Marcia Wood Gallery was all about the reward of seeing beyond the surface of things, from Peter Bahouth’s stereoscopic images that must be seen through a special viewer, to Devorah Sperber’s pixilated images viewed through a sphere (see my blog mention of her work in "The Centered Eye"), to Mary Engel’s made-you-look-twice animal-encrusted animals.

Installation at the Marcia Wood Gallery, Atlanta: Chris Scarborough pixel-manipulated photographs and Mary Engel animal sculpture. Harder to see are Peter Bahouth's viewing stands (in front of the window) and an oblique view of Devorah Sperber's pixilated installation with its viewing spere atop the dark stand in the middle of the picture. Below: a mono view of Peter Behouth's stereoscopic image, Lamb Henge

I also liked the installation of small semi-geometric abstractions in encaustic by Lenore Thomas at M% Gallery, and Eric Garduno’s small acrylic-sandwich geometric abstractions, inspired by Sixties LPs, at Linda Durham Contemporary Art, where they were displayed on a narrow ledge. "He likes to think of them as objects," says Durham.

Lenore Thomas's abstractions in encaustic at M% Gallery, Cleveland; below, Linda Durham with Eric Garduno's LP-inspired geometries on the ledge at Linda Durham Contemporary Art, Santa Fe

Word spread quickly that the Toomey Tourell gallery had sold everything early on. This San Francisco gallery has a varied program that includes abstraction and figuration, including the cartoony narratives of Heather Wilcoxon, the metallic color fields of Jimi Gleason and the map-like constructions of Matthew Picton. And with that good news I'll close this installment.

Below, Artist Matthew Picton and dealer Nancy Toomey of San Francisco's Toomey Tourell Gallery seated with Picton's cut-paper works over their left shoulders

Next up: All’s Fair: Aqua Art

All's Fair: Pulse

After two days of heavy looking at the fairs around the Convention Center, on Saturday morning I headed over to the Wynwood Design District of Miami proper to take in Pulse, Scope and NADA—all large venues with lots of exhibiting galleries. Unlike many fairgoers, I skipped the late-night parties and heavy drinking in favor of low-key al fresco dinners with friends after the fairs closed for the night, so I was alert and eager at Pulse when the doors opened at 10:00 am.

© Joanne Mattera www.joannemattera.com

Not everyone was out partying, by the way. One Boston dealer admitted he was in bed by 8:30 most nights, wiped out from the business of showing, selling and schmoozing. "It’s exhausting work," he said. It’s pretty tiring on my side of the aisle, too.

The white tent that houses Pulse, this year with an unpulsing floor

I’d heard from several disgruntled fairgoers that the shuttle buses were running irregularly—some had waited for as long as 90 minutes the previous day, before giving up and taking a taxi—so I saved myself the wait and shelled out $25 for the trip across the causeway.

Pulse was worth the trip. The art was uniformly interesting, the booths and walkways were spacious, and this year, the floor was nice and firm—unlike last year’s springy plywood that had you feeling as if you were adrift on the high seas.

Here’s what I liked:

Jack Shainman’s booth was dominated by a large painting by Odili Donald Odita featuring zigzaggy shapes in a warm palette shot with a bolt of cool green. I’d seen this artist’s show at the Shainman Gallery in New York a couple of months ago and was happy for another opportunity to revisit the work. A hanging sculpture by Subodh Gupta, of brass pots—hung a la How to Wrap Five Eggs—was a quiet beauty. I’d just seen Gupta's work at Basel Miami in an installation of those same brass pots piled into a carriage, but I liked this one better. More formal and refined.


Odili Donald Odita and Subodh Gupta at Jack Shainman Gallery

Finesilver, a gallery from Houston, featured two large wall pieces by Leonardo Drew. When I passed by, they were serving as the backdrop for some frenzied packing (or unpacking), something you saw a lot of throughout the weekend. Drew’s work is always compelling. And in the tumult of the fairs, I gravitated (perhaps more so than usual) to work with an organizing principle. With that in mind, I stopped into New York's Robert Mann booth, where last year at one of the New York fairs I saw a great grid of barn photographs by Jeff Brouws. This time it was drive-in movie screens. Nice.

Art coming and going at Finesilver Gallery, Houston, where Leonardo Drew's wall pieces dominate, above; the pleasure of organization amid the tumult: an installation Jeff Brouws's images of drive-in movie screens at Robert Mann Gallery, New York

Continuing with grid installations, Rubicon, a Dublin gallery, showed a smart group of framed geometric drawings by Ronnie Hughes. No bells and whistles here, just an opportunity for up-close viewing.

Ronnie Hughes: Small geometries at Rubicon Gallery, Dublin


That brings me to the fabulous installation of smallish work—each piece worth scrutiny—at the Pavel Zoubok booth. This New York gallery specializes in collage and assemblage, or at least work that involves amassed and accrued elements. My likes here: Donna Sharratt’s mandalas of wax, pins and thread; May Wilson’s wrapped toys, and Al Hansen's chocolate fantasies.

At Pavel Zoubok, New York: An overview of the booth, above--that's Pavel on the left; mixed-media mandalas by Donna Sharratt, May Wilson's wrapped toys, Al Hansen's witty Hershey collages--a twist to the Hershey's kiss


Charles Cowles Gallery had a spacious booth with great work—lots of work, but cleanly installed. I liked the paintings by Charles Arnoldi and Roberto Juarez. I’d seen in each of their recent solo shows at the New York gallery, but, as with Odita at Shainman, I enjoyed visiting individual works by these artists.

Geometries at Charles Cowles Gallery, New York: Charles Arnoldi's luscious geometric abstraction dominates; Roberto Juarez's small abstractions are to the left

As always, I liked what Thatcher Projects had to offer. My photographs of the booth did not turn out well, but I did get a nice corner shot that includes three small textured paintings by Robert Sagerman, a luminous wax-on-plexiglass painting by Heather Hutchison, and Richard Thatcher’s perfectly milled flat sculptures.

A corner of the Thatcher Projects booth: Sagerman, Hutchison, Richard Thatcher


Just as I was wishing for a tranquil corner to repair to, I came across an empty booth bathed in light and shadow, a lovely spash of illumination under the tent. A few quiet breaths later, it dawned on me that the light and shadow were in fact the installation, painted by Mary Temple for New York's Mixed Greens booth. Perfect.

A quiet corner of the fair: At Mixed Greens a site-specific light painting by Mary Temple


Next up: All's Fair: Scope