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Art-Holes

I had the pleasure of creating the term "art-hole" this past weekend at Art Basel.

My father and I flew down Friday to see the fair and get a general feel for what all the fuss is about and art-wise, I have not been disappointed. The main fair is a sprawling 500,000 square feet of big name artists and the galleries that represent them. There are pop up shops, VIP lounges and most importantly, champagne carts...

As you already know from your friends' lame instagram pics, EVERYONE is here so yours truly has run into quite a bit of people. Since this is ~*~ArT BaSeL*~*, the appropriate topic of conversation with whomever you've just run into...is art, specifically the art you've just seen.

Erwin Wurm's Lying on the side at the Xavier Hufkens booth

One of the reasons I came down here was to learn. Learn about new art, artists, galleries, people, jargon, and some of the do's and don'ts. So I was surprised when I learned that almost every piece of art I liked was...wrong?

Since my dad has been on the earth for quite some time, he's met some people in the art world and we ran into quite a few of them at Basel. The art guy/girl and my father and I would get to talking. I'd start gushing about a Klee or Raedecker I saw at the fair until I'd be interrupted by a reaction looking something like this:

"Oh...you liked that painting?"

Since I'm 22 years old and at my first art fair, I took these reactions as an opportunity to learn, to hone my eye and to get a feel of what the elite thought about certain artists. After, I shit you not, the 10th, the tenth person I stopped to talk shop to snubbed not a particular artwork but an entire satellite fair, I began to catch on to a trend. Art-holes.

My dad in front of a hamburger.

Every piece I brought up in conversation was immediately dismissed, poo-pooed or used as a foil to a much better example in that artist’s oeuvre. They didn't care if it actually was a good piece, they just wanted to tell me that my taste was lacking. And these were nice people I was talking to! It was as if every art related person at that fair needed to openly show distaste for an object that someone else showed interest in. I could understand that attitude if employed manipulatively to secure the piece for yourself (i.e. discourage someone else from buying it then run and red dot it yourself) but hello. I’m poor. I’m not buying anything. I’m just looking goddamnit.

These art fairs, especially Art Basel, have evolved into something very different than intended. Basel Miami Beach is not about the art anymore. The actual art fairs (Art Basel, Context, NADA etc.) are no longer the main attraction. They’ve been pushed to the bottom of attendee’s' to-do list. The PS1 party, the VH1 party, the PAMM gala, even poolside yoga hosted by lululemon trumps a walk through the convention center. Serious collectors, dealers and advisors are amongst a sea of Lindsay Lohans and Barron Hiltons. They feel a need to distinguish their eye and expertise from the plebian conglomerate. Just because a Judd is displayed in Zwirner’s booth, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a beautiful Judd and this is what distracts the majority of fair-goers—the brands/big names. If you put a piece of dog shit on display at the MoMA, it’s still a piece of dog shit. However, most people rely on the MoMA or David Zwirner to tell them what to like…even if it’s a literal piece of shit. It takes some knowledge and experience to critique art with nothing but your eye. And those in the know display this knowledge and experience by insulting your taste as a way of saying “I’m smarter than you” or “I’m in the know”. These are art-holes.

Lindzz at some basel party

Since Basel is slipping from the art world's hands and into night life’s, these people are constantly trying to prove that they actually know what they’re talking about. And unfortunately for me, that means a whole lot of one-upping and being made feel inadequate in my taste by people that have made names for themselves in the very sphere that I want to work in: the art world.

But hey, art is subjective and they’re a bunch of assholes.