To all my supporters and followers, you've probably noticed that my writing has taken a little break.  I'm focusing on larger projects and getting published at the moment, but not to worry.  There will be occasional writing nuggets on www.seanicahowe.com every now and then.  I hope you'll still check in occasionally!!  Much love, Seanica. 

Screen graphics created while using Purple-Goo, the new sound stretching application available for iPad and iPhone; 
Photo by Seanica Howe.  

Two years ago in an interview with the Brooklyn Rail the well-known performance artist Ulay talked about how the art of the 1960s and 70s had been a crucial opportunity for altering the definition of what art is, but had failed.   During this time artists such as himself, Allan Kaprow, and Fluxus---to name a few---began to create work that embraced impermanence and eliminated the distinction between artist and viewer.  This type of art had tremendous potential to change, or even obliterate, the art market, as well as the current model for exhibitions; creating the potential for us all to emerge as artists---our lives, interactions, and creations seen as fine art, in whatever form they embodied. 

More than 50 years later, the men and women who control the fine art market continue to push against the hierarchy that divides artists and their audiences.  This week, I found myself being sucked into this very concept.  I had been invited to an event, passed on to me by a local curator, to see "an interesting Iphone app/art piece."  Huh?   Since when do curators see Iphone apps as art?  Obviously, I needed to investigate. 

If you were at last night's app launch for Purple-Goo, consider yourselves one of the lucky few who got to witness a quality and seamless blending of the arts that rarely occurs, especially in an intimate local event.  The Wolfsonian-FIU served as a perfect backdrop for this eclectic intermingling of music, the visual arts, and people.  The Wolfsonian, with its pink lit walls and throw back Guilded Age design, created an ambiance of modern day Great Gatsby, where easy-breezy creative types, dressed in low-key punk, street, and hipster threads, chilled and jammed to the music of local band Krisp.

Between sets, Nicolas Lobo and Dylan Romer, the creators of the application, used the Purple-Goo app to entertain the audience by manipulating the live music of the band---with their permission, of course.  Goo breaks down a song into its most basic structure, an act that Lobo and Romer both quantify as an art form, and they should know: Romer studied art before his interests shifted to computer programming, and Lobo is a sculptor whose work is shown by Gallery Diet here in Miami.  

Purple-Goo displays worm-like graphics that follow the sweeps of your finger-tips while they skate along the surface of your iPhone or iPad, permitting the user to become visual artist, musician, and audience.  The two algorithms that stretch and slow the music are visually captured on the screen in an ooey-gooey change of color that reflects the alteration made to the music, one that has the haunting effect of an organ, the raunchy emissions of an accordion, or the screeching sounds of a synthesizer that fell into the wrong hands.   

Originally invented with the intention of destroying pop music, the app and the sound it creates remind Romer of audio similar to that of experimental weaponry for crowd control.  In effect, a means of "weaponizing pop."  Either way, its the revolutionary stretching of a moment in time, one capable of slowing music up to 10 million percent or, quite possibly, infinitely.   

If events like the one held last evening continue, Ulay's dream will be realized, and the boundaries between high and low art, consumer and creator, will fade.  It may sound like a small thing, but the way we do something is the way we do everything.  If the categorization of art is eliminated and the creative force behind everything we do is acknowledged, with no one given favor over the other, then what other boundaries and inequalities can we demolish?  

Think about it---then go get you some Goo.            



This article was originally written for publication with The Miami New Times Blog, Cultist.  This writing, as well as others by the author, can be accessed here:
http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/cultist/2013/08/purple_goo.php#more

Friday night’s gallery opening at Michael Jon Gallery sparked seedy flashbacks of my trips to New York's Lower East Side, where my friends and I would hit gallery after gallery in search of the next great artist.  Unlike its more grown-up sister, Chelsea, where established artists are backed by gallery owners with deep pockets and large spaces, the Lower East Side offered us chance meetings with gifted unknowns while we all rubbed elbows---often literally. (These spaces could be pretty tiny.) 

Enter Michael Jon Radziewicz, owner of Michael Jon Gallery; curator Hunter Braithwaite; and one very intimate space in Miami’s newest art destination: downtown.  Michael Jon begins its stint in its new location (it was briefly in the Design District) with an exhibition called “Gattaca,” and it’s going to throw you for a loop.  Why?  Due to the limited number of examples by each artist and lack of grounded text, it’s difficult to relate the works to one another and there is little to go on in the mode of esthetics.   But not so fast, people.  It's also a collection of work by little-known artists who have massive potential.  Art consultant pro tip: If you have dreams of starting your own art collection, "Gattaca" is a great place to start.

“Gattaca” is made up of artists that newly minted collectors dream of.   They are young, virtually unknown, and have bios that give their work considerable weight.  The show is composed of four artists: Ethan Greenbaum, Hayal Pozanti, Will Rockel, and Cole Sayer.  Two of the four, Greenbaum and Pozanti, received MFA degrees from Yale---that’s serious.  And Rockel boasts recent participation in a group exhibition at the New Museum in New York City.  Due to his current involvement with the Venice Biennale, any mention of the New Museum’s director, Massimiliano Gioni, makes fine art lovers everywhere weep and salivate, so Rockel gains street cred by mere association.

You would never know it by seeing one or two pieces extracted from their larger body of works, but if you do your homework you’ll quickly realize that each of these emerging artists are part of important conversations in the forward progression of art, as well as its relationship to theory, process, and materials.  In elitist art world brouhaha that means: “We think your art is valuable.”  Get the picture?  Good.

Since you’re likely to leave this exhibition scratching your head, let me explain just what these artists are up to. Greenbaum, the show’s standout, uses, as his subject, building materials, principle units of architecture that we generally disregard when visually consuming our physically constructed environments.  In Weep Space (2013), he layers photographic images of wood and formica to create a stand alone sculpture of printed acrylic panels.  

Pozanti, who initially worked in graphic design, abandoned her roots and got back to basics through painting.  The medium allows her a more personal connection with her abstractions, those born from indefinable shapes she originally created via computerized collage.    

 Will Rockel, Cold Opening, 2013; Photo by Seanica Howe.

Through digital photography, Rockel toys with fetishism and irony while exploring sexuality and culture and how our minds react to such through images.   In Cold Opening (2013), Rockel accentuates a man’s shirt and tie with clear fluid to create a sterile image, one that also conjures up stories of political sexcapades.   

And Cole Sayer probes the variable exchange of the insubstantial with that of physicality.  He injects his work with strange, new, and unexpected materials in the same way that sports figures up the ante with steroids and public relations.

Gallerists and curators like Michael Jon Radziewicz and Hunter Braithwaite are essential for the continued artistic evolution of Miami and its leverage in the art world.   These young guys, relatively new to the art scene, have focused their energy on up-and-coming artists from outside the city limits; dialing us in, both nationally and internationally, to academic circles, critics, and hot new artists and shows that mediate the dialogue of emerging trends in the arts, ones that collectively reflect zeitgeists and result in movements.   Sound important?  It is.  This later translates into significant museum exhibitions and recognition on the secondary art market. 

So what say ye? Bring it on Michael Jon.


This article was originally written for publication with The Miami New Times Blog, Cultist.  This writing, as well as others by the author, can be accessed here:
http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/cultist/2013/07/why_michael_jon_gallery_and_th.php#more

Recently I had an artist, a very successful sculptor actually, sit me down and explain to me the loss of the ability to "do" in our society.   Do you know how to make your grandmother's best meal?  I don't either, but in the house in which I was raised, one set at the end of a dirt road in a tiny farming community, it was fried chicken and white gravy.  Every Sunday morning my mother would make this southern delicacy, one she learned from my grandmother.  The creation of the gravy, in particular, was a fine art. She had mastered it.  To this day I have never made that meal, and I am 37 years old.

And what about our grandfather's?  Do you know how to change the oil in your car, build a piece of furniture, or   ---other than yanking the chain a few times---repair the toilet?  Well, they do.  The years they spent learning a craft, whether it be cooking, building, or fixing, we spent on our cell phones and computers, limiting our knowledge of art forms that empower us with the ability to take care of ourselves.  

If we don't look to and understand our past, then how can we master our future?  Well, it would seem that Dina Mitrani agrees.  Through her show "Historic Process/Contemporary Visions," she is providing a rare opportunity for audiences in Miami to view a group of photographs that utilize lost techniques.

In it, contemporary artists explore alternative photographic processes, some more than 100 years old, and combine them with current topics and methods.  It's a small exhibition whose precious pictures demand your time and contemplation; it's educational; and---for lack of a better word---it's lovely, due mostly to the sensitivity of its curator, Dina Mitrani.  

In Hollywood Dreams (1999), Rafael Balcazar utilizes an old film reel as his still subject, one whose image fades from right to left.  A figure that would normally lack dynamism takes on a life of its own due to the multitude of tones of black and white provided in his platinum print.  By abandoning the standard gelatin-silver or digital process, one whose appearance lacks the visual complexity and density to hold the eye, Balcazar produces a picture that invites the viewer to study and stare.  Black and white become a whole range of colors that your brain suddenly realizes it's been missing.  

In a grouping of cyanotype photograms titled Party Dress Series (2007), artist Heidi Kirkpatrick looks to an age-old photographic process, one that harkens back to the early nineteenth century, to subtly illuminate contemporary issues encountered by women.  Barbie doll dresses from her childhood leave ghostly reflections, captured in sunlight, of a little girl's playthings, ones destined to create a mental framework for idealistic notions of beauty. 

Early photographers didn't need automatic focus or a digital printer and often spent hours capturing a single image.  What can we learn from them?  Attention, tireless discipline, devotion, an intimate understanding of process....  Our artists are smart enough to move into the future while incorporating valuable lessons and techniques from the past, enriching their work and enhancing their wisdom.  So maybe it's time we all followed suit, photocopying grandma's recipe box or face-timing with dad for a lesson under the hood.  After all, knowledge is power.  And when our parents and our parents' parents are gone, we don't want to be left with knowing how to, not, "do."


The Dina Mitrani Gallery is located at 2620 NW 2nd Ave, Miami, FL.  "Historic Process/Contemporary Visions" is on view through August 31.

This article was originally written for publication with The Miami New Times Blog, Cultist.  This writing, as well as others by the author, can be accessed here:
http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/cultist/2013/07/dina_mitranis_historic_process.php

Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.  By water, I mean art, and by drink, well, let’s just say I haven’t been doing much.

Miami, leaving New York to come back to you was not an easy decision.  Are you aware of the number of mouth-watering Thai restaurants that exist in Manhattan?  When I traded them in for sugary coffee and guava pastries, I didn’t complain.  And seamless.com, my substitute boyfriend, available at all hours of the night---dropped him like a bad habit.  Sure, occasionally I still search the site, dreaming of ordering from five star restaurants and eating on my floor with no one knowing, but love takes compromise and sacrifice.  I thought you were worth it and, I’m sorry to say this, but you owe me.

I’ve been waiting for Miami to break away from the New York art scene and develop its own style.  We’re not the Big Apple and why should we be?  Do we really want to go on pretending that we still think conceptual art is actually interesting?  It’s been over fifty years since this overly cerebral, visually unappealing art reared its ugly head, so maybe it’s time for a new conversation.  You and I both saw that paper mache monstrosity at Locust Projects this year---need I say more?

We’re sexy.  We love fashion, whether it’s street or designer.  We’re taking our clothes off while our New York counterparts are throwing on another layer.  While they are sitting in boardrooms, missing out on life, we’re cruising around on boats, or chillin' at the beach, drinking rose until the sun goes down.  

Describe us in one word---hot.   Everything in Miami sizzles: our temperatures, our music, and our people (just ask Dwyane and LeBron); so why shouldn’t our art reflect who we are and do the same?  The Germans agree, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to move us in the right direction.

You want perfection Miami?  Well, here it is:  CU-1 gallery and its photographers.    It’s high fashion meets fine art, where even the smashed-up soda cans are provocative.  

Roger Weber, my personal favorite and whose work is on display for the first time with CU-1 in their current show “Look at Me,” blends shapes and colors from daily life that result in sedate photographs glazed with understated glamour.  He masterfully manipulates natural light like a shaman, creating sophisticated images set in unassuming locales that are esthetically on par with favorite cinematic greats.    

Anke Linz and Andreas Oettinger, the collective better known as Billy & Hells, are on view in the gallery’s not-so-secret, graffitied vault.  Their portrait 1977 (2011), from the series “the Astronaut’s Wife,” is weighted with a constrained, rose colored air reminiscent of Sylvia von Halle (1926), offering a contemporary take on the New Objectivity that put German artists like George Grosz and Otto Dix on the map.

But the owners of CU-1 aren’t only interested in offering up refined images that eliminate the imaginary boundaries between commercial and high and low.  They have redefined the stale gallery space with lofty elegance and intend on using it as a platform for bringing together those who embrace art and life, a distinction that they see as one and the same. 

Thank you gentlemen.  Here in Miami, we couldn’t agree more.  And we spend every day proving it. 


CU-1 Gallery is located at 117 NE 1st Ave, Miami, FL.  “Look at Me” is on view until August 23, 2013.

The lawn of the Palace Cavalli Franchetti, housing the Veneto Institute of Science, Literature and Art;  Photo by Seanica Howe.

So today, due to my curious nature and insatiable spirit, I am sharing with you a bit of Venice, and portions of its Biennale that, if you were there, would blow your mind.  Because of my inability to settle down, I combed through this Italian labyrinth, jet-lagged and yearning for inspiration, searching for great art so that you wouldn't have to.  Cozy up on the couch and serve the kids dinner.  Ranked in no particular order, here are the best and brightest of what you're missing on the other side of the Atlantic.  If you decide to take a tiny weekend to walk the streets of the sinking city before the grand show closes in November, there will still be time to squeeze in a bottle of wine and return home before the baby sitter can light the house on fire. 

1.  Sarah Sze's "Triple Point:" U.S. Pavilion, Giardini

Okay fine. I admit it. One of my closest friends works for this artist and I AM American, so maybe I'm playing favorites. But if you've never seen Sze's work up close and personal (other than in the closet of the Hort collection I hadn't), then it's time to do it in Italy.  I'm not sure if Sze designs her installations to be fraught with meaning or to function as a critique on society, but this is how I see her disorienting and carefully crafted microcosms that weave into architectural wonders. 

An exterior view of the U.S. Pavillion at the Venice Biennale featuring the work of Sarah Sze; Photo by Seanica Howe.

 "Triple Point," is a series of environments in which Sze pieces together essential everyday materials, trash, and ephemera.  Each of the constructs convey the mad chaos of life through the vernacular of a carpenter or mad scientist. Some resemble views from a planetarium, but all are sad reminders of the wasteful and consumption-obsessed society in which we live.  I couldn't help but think, after leaving the exhibition, that this will probably be the perception aliens have of us when they discover our planet hundreds of years from now:  exquisite, interesting, and the consequence of an inescapable, overwhelming mess made voluntarily.

One of a series of installations inside Sarah Sze's "Triple Point;" Photo by Seanica Howe.

Sze's installations are so intricate and painstakingly constructed, and by the artist's own two hands I might add, that one cannot help but admire Sze for the hours it must have taken to acquire each and every tiny stick, thread, photo, and plant for this fragile erector set of memories and "stuff."  It's complicated, indecipherable, and visually stunning.  Go get 'em Sze.  If I don't see an installation of hers in the MoMA soon I will boycott, and I'm positive I won't be alone.

2.  Gilad Ratman's "The Workshop:" Israel Pavillion, Giardini

Years ago, when the powers that be decided to assign the buildings for the Venice Biennale, some insightful person must have thought: "I have a great idea. Let's save visitors some trouble so that in 2013 they will only have to take about ten steps to see the two best artists the city has to offer.  We know they are going to be lazy. We've seen how they completely bi-pass the whole relationship thing and substitute it with a cellular device, so surely they will want to skip out on moving through the city. Plus,we know that group exhibition might be a bit much, so let's pack a punch."  Alright, maybe it didn't go that way, but in my head it did.   

Video still of Gilad Ratman's "The Workshop;" Photo by Seanica Howe.

Ladies and gentlemen there is A LOT of video art in this Biennale.  So much so that a little eye-rolling seems in order after about the tenth installation, but Ratman's multi-medium, video-centered work raises the bar.  Video artists take note.  Instead of using the space as a container ignored by most, Ratman constructs his installation to have the pavilion work as a part of it.  

Five video projections lead the visitor through the space, giving the impression of scaling and then entering a mountain with a group of men and women that, as it turns out, arrive on the other side to create sculptures within the pavilion: the same space from which you are viewing the work.  Witness the artists mushing and molding clay busts of themselves while murmuring strange noises into microphones inserted into their heads (the busts, not their own).  

Video still inside Gilad Ratman's "The Workshop;" Photo by Seanica Howe.

As you exit the space it all becomes clear: the hole in the floor is the one broken through by the artists and the DJ in the initial video is mixing their voices into electronic deliciousness. It's a play on relational esthetics utilizing current media and music.  In short...it's (insert profanity here for effect) rad.  

3.  Marc Quinn's Solo Show: Giorgio Cini Foundation, San Giorgio Maggiore

Anyone who has known me for more than five minutes will quickly assess that I'm more into beauty than blood and guts, and I've been known to walk away from a violent or aggressive piece of art before giving it a fighting chance.  I'm a big believer in selecting the images we expose ourselves to (that's another article), so it speaks volumes for Quinn that a sensitive soul like myself can't help but acknowledge the strength of this artist.  

Marc Quinn's giant blow-up statue, Breath (2012), at the entrance of his solo show at the San Giorgio Maggiore; Photo by Seanica Howe.

While cruising around Venice, it's impossible to miss his enormous blow-up lavender statue of an armless woman with a very masculine head sitting on the island of San Giorgio Maggiore.   Evidently this was a re-creation of the actual one he did in London and even though it's a bit of a monstrosity when cast against the stunning Venice architecture, by the end of the week my eye found its way there like a well-tuned honing device.  

Marc Quinn, Flesh Painting (2012); Photo by Seanica Howe.

Quinn is a mastermind at bringing the creepy and disturbing to life in a way so esthetically appealing that he forces the viewer to stretch beyond his or her comfort zone, challenging their psyche.  When one stands before an uber realistic painting of human flesh and suddenly feels hungry or begins to ponder how the billowy white extensions of fat compliment the smooth red meat like lace on a dress, it becomes blatantly obvious just how conditioned we are in the way we categorize and judge images.  

Seanica Howe with a sculpture by Marc Quinn, as part of his solo exhibition at the Giorgi Cini Foundation; Photo by Seanica Howe.

His work challenges mainstream notions of beauty and perfection by focusing on subjects rarely used in classical media, i.e. large sculptures of the stages of fetal development and pregnant men in gym shorts.  Possibly Quinn is a freaky trekkie type or a guy who wasn't properly monitored by his parents on the number of hours he clocked in front of horror films. I've never met him but I'm glad something went awry.  Quinn's work has the ability to change the way we see the world, encouraging us to embrace and accept the good, the bad, and the ugly.

4.  Richard Mosse's "The Enclave:" Ireland Pavilion, Collateral Exhibition 

Mosse's photographs and video are bright, colorful, painterly, and crisp.  After entering this collateral show off the beaten path, prepare to be greeted by landscapes filled with fluorescent pinks, warm reds, and electric blues and greens.  Prickly trees sporadically intersect rolling hills and winding water.  

A Richard Mosse photograph inside "The Enclave;" Photo by Seanica Howe.

At first glance these images appear highly retouched by an artist adept at photoshop, except they are anything but.  These seemingly picturesque countrysides are created with military technology, one that results in pared down images with easily identifiable elements used for camouflage detection, and are films and photographs of the Congo, a locale legendary for its gorilla warfare.  The video shown inside the pavilion documents the predatory intensity of a jungle bloodied with battle.  

The artist works his way through the area capturing rebel fighters, both alive and dead, and other occupants of this lush but deadly region.  Mosse's work is a reminder that all that glitters is not gold.  Our senses are easily deceived by beauty, a notion that serves as a manipulative tactic for those in power and one that often functions as an illusive veneer for a frightening reality. 

5.   "The Encyclopedic Palace" by Curator Massimiliano Gioni: Giordini-Arsenale 

Based on the concept of a worldly encyclopedia, a dream envisioned by an Italian-American artist named Marino Auriti circa 1955, Gioni brings together, in two sprawling spaces split between the Arsenale and Giordini, museum quality works, both old and new, to catalog our evolution through images.  Via more than 150 artists from over 37 countries, Gioni weaves a story that is nearly impossible to tell, akin to climbing Mount Everest, but he succeeds through the use of understandable yet sophisticated wall text and engaging artworks that are logically arranged.  

Inside " The Encyclopedic Palace:" an installation shot of Pawel Althamer's Venetians (2013); Photo by Seanica Howe.

I realize at this moment that I am about to make some outlandish statements to impress upon you just how unbelievably amazing this exhibition is, especially for someone acutely aware of a curatorial perspective, but I am going to do it anyway.  Massimiliano Gioni may be an oracle, or even a god, and "The Encyclopedic Palace" is the most impressive exhibition I have ever seen; EVER, without question.  Nothing touches it.  

I suspect that Gioni's "Palace" will be talked about in history books as the moment the art world collectively woke up, recognizing that the the next step in our evolution, creatively, is to find a way to sift through the noise that has resulted from what we see and consume; that art is magical and it is the artist, proclaimed as such or not, who is here providing us with ways to bridge the physical with the ethereal; and that we are at a turning point, pushing past the material, and it's been our artists' projections through an array of media that has gotten us here.  Art, in any form, is a manifestation of a source tied to imagination, a creative component of our higher selves, each with a power of its own.  

A painting by Augustin Lesage from his series Composition Symbolic (1923-1932) on view at "The Encyclopedic Palace;" Photo by Seanica Howe.

Gioni gives me hope.  When someone at this level, who is recognized as an authority within the art world, isn't stuck in a one-dimensional conversation regarding art as politics, idea, process, or thing, goes beyond strict left brain thinking and far into the right, blending the two in an all-encompassing way to create a deeper understanding of what is happening around us, I can't help but think we are on the right track. Mr. Gioni, I, for one, am eternally grateful.


Well, that's it, my grand top five.  I'm not David Letterman so ten seems excessive and, as you know, I need to keep moving.  Get back to tending the lawn or head to your nine to five---whatever it is you grounded types do.  I'll meet you in back in Miami...arrivederci!

Joan McLoughlin, owner of The McLoughlin Gallery, pictured with artists (from left to right) David Middlebrook and Mckay Otto as well as McLoughlin gallerist Antonio Cortez; Photo by Seanica Howe.

On my final day in Basel I would be remiss if I didn't do a little storytelling and share with you what goes on behind the scenes.  Unlike Miami, only a few satellites---SCOPE, Volta, and Liste---attempt to compete with the main Art Basel fair in Basel.  This year was especially challenging for these mid-level dealers; the Art Basel space came with a new face and, according to those who had attended in the past, the show was one of the best.  Collectors, artists, and hangers-on finished their days in an open air rotunda sipping cocktails while catching up on the day.

A view of the rotunda of Art Basel in Basel, Switzerland; Photo by Seanica Howe.

A dealer friend of mine akins the Art Basel experience to that of an Olympic Village.  Hopefuls support each other while waiting for the next big sale.  And if a collector doesn't purchase with one gallery, he is often directed to another.  There is a huge sense of camaraderie.  Unlike their Art Basel colleagues who get hundreds of thousands, if not millions, for single works, the folks at satellite fairs like SCOPE sweat it out and go to the mattresses. Each sale they make matters and could be the difference in packing it in or moving forward.

Dealers here are inspiring dreamers; people that have made huge life changes for the sake of being in the arts.  Joan McLoughlin, owner of the McLoughlin Gallery, left her job as a nurse and involvement with medical start-ups to open her own gallery in San Francisco.  In less than three years she has built a family of artists that now have works in major museums and collections.  

Gallerists (from left to right) John Haas and Andreas Kuefer with Ed Victori in the Victori Contemporary booth at the SCOPE art fair, Basel: Photo by Seanica Howe.

Ed Victori of Victori Contemporary left his career as a Wall Street trader in hopes of one day establishing his father as a master painter in fine art.   Mark Hachem walked away from his successful computer consulting company to open a gallery in Paris.  He now has additional locations in the Middle East, as well as the United States. 

Kevin Havelton of Aureus Contemporary gallery; Photo by Seanica Howe.

And after becoming disenchanted with others selling his paintings, Kevin Havelton began his own virtual gallery and now travels to several fairs a year, representing his own work as well as others.  The stories are endless, and these people are warriors.

So the next time you think of purchasing a pair of Nikes or that Prada purse, donating your money to a corporate tycoon who doesn't need it, consider saving your pennies for art.  You might be supporting the dream of another or paying a few months' rent of your favorite artist; not to mention the right to brag to your friends on how you discovered the next big thing while being at the center of it all---Basel.


This article was originally written for publication with The Miami New Times Blog, Cultist, as one of a series of articles titled "Art Basel in Basel" by Seanica Howe.  This writing, as well as the remainder of the series, can be accessed here:
http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/cultist/2013/06/art_basel_in_basel_day_4_the_p.php.

Pablo Bronstein, Maria Antoinette and Robespierre Engage In An Irritable Post-Coital Conversation, 2013; Photo by Seanica Howe.

Two things have become quite obvious to me on this trip to Basel: 1. I need more wall space and 2.  If I'm going to continue being an art writer, I need to get a very rich boyfriend.  When one's favorite Gerhard Richter at Dominique Levy sells for $25,000,000 before you can even snap a picture, you know that you're in the wrong tax bracket.   

Today was the day we went in and rubbed elbows with the big guns.  Prepare to be disgusted because the name of the game is money, and lots of it.  Whispers of conversations here are not for the faint of heart and romantic notions are best left in the coat check.   Art moves into the area of strict commodity with verbal exchanges between advisor and collector going something like this:  Collector: "Is so and so buying this yet?"  Advisor:  "No."  Collector:  "If he's not buying it, then I'm not. I need something with staying power."  

The major New York galleries were all in attendance and, without a doubt, put their best foot forward showing works from some heavily traded contemporary favorites.  Anish Kapoor's wall sculptures have shifted from 

Anish Kapoor, Untitled, 2012; Photo by Seanica Howe.

round bowl into potato chip form with one of the new versions bringing in nearly $1,100,000.  Two artists currently in the limelight at the Venice Biennale, Sarah Sze and Ragnar Kjartansson, who typically produce large scale works more appropriate for museums, have pieces available for those unable to devote an entire room to them.  Sarah Sze's teeny tiny installation, Standing Pile (Cairn) (2013), a mere 48" tall, was sold for $32,000.  

Video still of Ragnar Kjartansson's Song, 2011; Photo by Seanica Howe.

Kjartansson's dealer, Luhring Augustine, is showing Song (2011), a video where three singing waifs hypnotically rotate on a bed while brushing their hair.  The entrancing piece, which was on view at MOCA last year,  is available for sale in an edition of six.      

Jonathan Horowitz, Free Store, 2009-2013; Photo by Seanica Howe.

Those selling works and writing invoices have been quoted as saying that buyers here appear drunk or feverish, purchasing to their heart's content, but it's nice to know there are still a few things that cannot be bought.  Sitting between the main halls is Jonathan Horowitz's Free Store (2009-2013), an environment where visitors without deep pockets are invited to exchange goods.  And the London gallery Herald St is presenting a performance piece by Pablo Bronstein.  It's titled Marie Antoinette and Robespierre Engage In An Irritable Post-Coital Conversation (2013) where a man and woman, posed as lovers, ironically sit and ignore each other. 

Wait, did I just see Steve Cohen purchase the guy on the right?  I suppose what they say is true: everything is for sale, especially here at Basel---just name the price.


This article was originally written for publication with The Miami New Times Blog, Cultist, as one of a series of articles titled "Art Basel in Basel" by Seanica Howe.  This writing, as well as the remainder of the series, can be accessed here: 
http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/cultist/2013/06/art_basel_in_basel_day_three_m.php.

Viewers behold Piotr Uklanski's Untitled (Open Wide), 2012, installation at Art Basel's "Unlimited;" Photo by Seanica Howe.

Today was the day I ate my words.  Gagosian, please forgive me.  Hauser & Wirth, keep building.   Every terrible thing I've ever said about oversized galleries with big bank accounts? I take it back.  You are now my reason for being, my everything, because without your support of artists in need of large spaces and big budgets, I would have missed having my jaw drop open at "Unlimited," Art Basel's show within a show.  

Stretching the imagination beyond the wall hanging and basic sculpture, "Unlimited" serves as the portion of the main Art Basel fair designated for multi-media, performance art, and large scale installations and objects that reach beyond the limits of the white cube. 

A portion of Chen Zhen's Purification Room, 2000; Photo by Seanica Howe.
     

Purification Room (2000), Chen Zhen's archeological work, warns of an apocalypse, and, given the world events of late, are sure to force one to question their place in the world and its potential destruction.  Banal objects used in everyday life are left in the dust, literally.  Covered in thick layers of earth, cookware, furniture, clothing, and even the bike on the lawn remain frozen in time, free from further wear with the disappearance of their users.  Besides being psychologically terrifying, Zhen's clay process is masterful and leaves the viewer pondering the unlikelihood of its fabrication.

David Altmejd, The Orbit, 2012; Photo by Seanica Howe.

On a lighter note, in a room all to itself, is an object in stark contrast to the death and destruction conveyed by Zhen.  Well, maybe not death, because inside this partially broken aquarium of clear cubes and mirrors created by David Altmejd is a melon-head exploding into several pieces.  The Orbit (2012) contains a rainbow of string, waxed body parts, and artificial cherries, among other things. It all seeps into the subconscious like a dream of interactive energies that shift and transform in color and state of being, floating above any susceptibility of decay.

An exterior view of Chiharu Shiota's In Silence, 2002/2013; Photo by Seanica Howe.

Two female artists defy the odds with their treatment of textiles:  Chiharu Shiota spins an installation that evokes memories of childhood trauma or domestic abuse by including burned chairs and a piano, both contents of a home, but one that traps and frightens its occupants.  And Piotr Uklanski magnifies the softer side of the oral cavity in her quilted Open Wide (2012) installation, where a giant uvula diminishes its admiring audience.  Ahhhhh "Unlimited!" She took the words right out of my mouth.  


This article was originally written for publication with The Miami New Times Blog, Cultist, as one of a series of articles titled "Art Basel in Basel" by Seanica Howe. This writing, as well as the remainder of the series, can be accessed here:  
http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/cultist/2013/06/art_basel_in_basel_day_two_ahh.php.

I Santissimi, Horror Vacui, 2012; Photo by Seanica Howe

To say that Art Basel has become significant for our fair city is a bit of an understatement.  Do we even remember what Miami was like before this major event elevated it from vacation destination to cultural hot spot?  Those of us that had never been exposed to million dollar art suddenly became connoisseurs and were granted permission to enter a world we thought only existed in New York and Paris.  

Well, the big daddy fair, father to which Miami now owes its claim to art fame, has, once again, occupied Switzerland.  No people, Art Basel is not just a Miami event and, just in case you are wondering, its fabulousness translates worldwide.

My first day in Basel had me starting with one of my favorite satellite fairs, SCOPE.  Sonja Hofstetter, head of SCOPE exhibitor relations, shared with me her thoughts on the major contrast between Art Basel in Basel versus Miami: that while Miami continues to live up to its reputation as a place to see and be seen, which comes as no surprise, Basel attracts the serious European collector, with many of the attendees flying in specifically to buy art.  

Paolo Grassino, Analgesia (2012), an outdoor installation courtesy of Mario Mauroner Contemporary Art; Photo by Seanica Howe.

Standing guard as visitors enter the fair is a group of junk yard dogs, an outdoor installation by Paola Grassino, reminding riffraff to keep out so that sophisticated types inside can get down to business.  

Ran Hwang, Secret Obsessions, 2013; © Ran Hwang/Courtesy Inception Gallery, Paris.

Seeing SCOPE Miami attendees Victori Contemporary and Aureus was a major treat, along with viewing contemporary art that ranges from I Santissimi's perplexing fabrication of a sectioned, crouching human, shown by Gagliardi Art System, to Ran Hwang's webbed chandelier of thousands of crystals and beads pinned to plexiglass.  Hwang is represented by Inception Gallery in Paris. 

Comenius Rothlisberger and Admir Jahic, The Invisible Heroes, standing with one of several works shown for the SCOPE art fair; Photo by Seanica Howe.

Comenius Rothlisberger and Admir Jahic, the artists better known as The Invisible Heroes, have works on display specifically for SCOPE.  In their stand alone space, this cool duo presents resin sculptural objects embedded with colored pigments, allowing reflections from fluorescent lighting to skate along their surfaces.  

Yves Hayat, Icones Fatiguees (left) and Parfums de Revolte (right), both from 2013; Photo by Seanica Howe.
 

However, the fair's definite crowd pleaser was a series of small clear cases with a big message. Created by Yves Hayat, these shriveling images of coveted icons and designer brands ask their admirers to consider the price paid for celebrity, consumerism, and wealth. Not to worry, in addition to showing in Paris, Hayat's dealer, Mark Hachem, also occupies a space in New York's Chelsea.  But if you've taken a vow only to see art in Miami, preferring a little more pizazz with your viewing pleasure, I'm sure he could be convinced to fly south for the winter...just in time for our spiced up version of this beloved event.


This article was originally written for publication with The Miami New Times Blog, Cultist, as one of a series of articles titled "Art Basel in Basel" by Seanica Howe.  This writing, as well as the remainder of the series, can be accessed at http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/cultist/2013/06/art_basel_in_basel_day_one.php?page=2.