At the top of this month I went to Art Basel Miami.
Not the whole Miami art week extra satellite show whateverness, but the Art Basel Miami fair itself.
There were over 280 booths full of eye candy to match that vase you have or that vice you have.
Oh, OK, it wasn’t all vacuous. I remember seeing a large circular wall hanging that caught my attention because it was made out of hammered bullet casings arranged to look like scales on a shield– the offensive killing thing made into a beautiful defensive thing. I liked that.
I needed to carry that beautiful defense with me to block out the dog and donkey shows in the “new media” section though. I am sure you can guess the dog reference. It was all over the new outlets stealing undeserved attention. Unfortunately, there was another exhibit that was even more… ‘adding to the problem.’
Just imagine being too poor to live in your own country, and this artless cryptobrosephus billionaire is standing next to you begging for money– with money– at an art fair. And that is supposed to be The Art. No cute robots. People just line up, pay money at a machine, and walk away with a receipt in a baggy.
Thousands willingly played the ass to a ‘trickster’ scheme. Hee-haw-haw-haw. And what is that ‘trickster’ going to do with the money he’s rolling in? More rolling? What a lark. But then, hey, you have to go home to cockroaches, mildew and the vague threat of narcoviolencia– and you have no idea how good your safety net will be when you do have a massive crisis.
I very much enjoy the Trickster archetype, but eh– my soul was clawing at me like it was suffocating. Every time I walked through that section, it was a quick march with blinders on. Which is a shame. There were some interesting pieces that I just could not spend more time with.
Honestly, I couldn’t spend time with much of anything. The way people clumped and crowded, I felt I needed to keep moving to keep some sort of safe distance. I didn’t what to give the booth-minders any hope that I was a buyer either. It’s not like looking at work in a museum. The pressure you feel isn’t to make sure you aren’t standing closer than six inches to a piece, it’s pressure to lure the green out of your pockets.
Sales are to be made in this place. Serious amounts of money flow here. I could feel there was so much pressure for this to happen on the first day that I was nervous to goof around. I held back until the last day. That was sort of like a free for all for the plebes. It was then that I took photos of my Thrawn action figure posing with random pieces of art while the gallerists started to let themselves unwind.
Of the many thousands of people who have gone through Art Basel Miami, how many have taken a Thrawn action figure with them?
My eleven year old artist self got to safely experience a very grown-up part of the art world, hand in hand with a genius tactician alien who can analyze the hell out of the art and with that explain how to demolish any of these people…
Since I was little, I’ve wanted to be close to the arts, to be a an artist, to support other artists… but my road’s been rough and quite dark. It was nice to have Thrawn there to show my child self that in spite of the shit, I am right up there with these elites. I am not just sick and stuck in a hole in Baja. I am doing the thing. It’s not as nice as I need it to be, but I am doing the thing. Somehow.
It would be ungracious of me to not mention that it was LDJ LA Gallery who gave me a pass to this other world where art and money merge. I’m grateful to have seen the fashion show of it all. And, yeah, there were tears in my eyes when I witnessed a couple make that one purchase, and blunt need’s edge for a while longer. I didn’t leave Miami feeling less than.
