Reports on 2011 Frieze fair London

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Art

Frieze Art Fair 2011, London

'Self Portrait I' by Ryan Gander, 2011, at the Lisson Gallery stand at Frieze Art Fair
‘Self Portrait I’ by Ryan Gander, 2011, at the Lisson Gallery stand at Frieze Art Fair

By Emma O’Kelly

Economic doom and gloom may be swirling overhead, but during the Frieze Art Fair wealth, glamour and decadence still reign supreme. At the VIP opening, fat-walleted, fashioned-up collectors queued in droves to get in and scope out the 173 galleries and their artworks, which, as always, ranged from incredible to inscrutable, to downright annoying.

What to make of the swirling umbrellas placed on upside-down zebra print wallpaper designed ‘in homage to famous new York restaurant Gino’ by Alex Zachary? How to respond to Andra Ursuta‘s ‘bog body’- a life-size sculpture of herself dragged from a marsh and covered in splodges of silicone to represent semen? A little goes a long way at Frieze; its size guarantees sensory overload, but straightforwardly beautiful pieces such as Doh Ho Su’s fabric sculptures of doorknobs, pipes and lightswitches, or Carsten Nicolai‘s tableaux at Galerie Eigen+Art provide anchors in the storm.

Christian Jankowski‘s Riva yacht could be bought either as a boat or an artwork, depending on how much you were willing to pay for it, and had men clustering to take their picture next to it. Though it was meant as a symbol ‘to open wide the structures behind selling art’ in the words of the artist, it felt more Ideal Home Show than art show. Less oblique was Michael Landy‘s Credit Card Destroying Machine, first shown, remarkably, in the Louis Vuitton store in Bond Street last year. You put in your card and receive a signed drawing.

Now in its ninth year, the fair is as buoyant as ever, if a little more conservative than in previous years, and 2012 will see a sister event in New York and an additional Frieze Masters fair in London, dealing in artworks made before 2000. At the Frame part of the show, in which 24 young galleries exhibit one artist, curators whispered that South American artists especially those from Brazil and Argentina, are the ones to watch.

The ripple effect created by Frieze means galleries across town pull out all the stops to woo collectors, and a host of excellent shows, among them Ahmed Alsoudani at Haunch of Venison, run long after the tent has gone. Opportunists too, pitch in; on the south side of the Regents Park, a strip of John Nash terraces have been converted into millionaires pads with price tags of up to £45m. During Frieze, one mansion is turned into a temporary gallery of works from private collections for a show called The House of the Nobleman. Around 700 guests sashayed across the park to the opening party – and this time it wasn’t art they were after.

Frieze Art Fair 2011

Galerie Eigen+Art dedicated its whole stand to Carsten Nicolai
Michael Riedell at the David Zwirner stand
Untitled work by Isa Genzken at David Zwirner

Untitled (tondo) by Jason Martin at the Lisson Gallery stand

‘Parking garage’ by Rita McBride at the Mai 36 Galerie Zurich stand

‘August 6, 1945′ by Matthew Day Jackson at Hauser & Wirth
‘Crush’ by Andra Ursuta at the Ramiken Crucible gallery in the Frame area of Frieze
The Box Gallery from LA reignites the work of Judith Bernstein

‘Norman Foster’ by Xavier Veilhan at the Galerie Perrotin stand

Elmgreen & Dragset’s untitled piece suggests a woman in a morgue
Untitled by Ahmed Alsoudani, on show at the Haunch of Venison in Mayfair

The White Cube chose Frieze week to launch its third London gallery in a 1970s warehouse on Bermondsey Street. Retrofitted by Casper Mueller Kneer Architects, the building’s 780sq m South Galleries opens with ‘Structure & Absence’, a group show that uses the Chinese concept of a scholar’s rock as a motif. It features several veterans of White Cube and Frieze alike: Andreas Gursky, Brice Marden, Sterling Ruby, Gabriel Orozco and Damien Hirst
Photography by Ben Westoby, courtesy of White Cube

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The Wall Street Journal

All’s Fair in London

[COVER] Tony Kyriacou/Rex Features

A visitor admires Nigel Cooke’s ‘No Holidays’ (2011) at Frieze Art Fair.

Artists, collectors, critics, curators and dealers have descended on London through Sunday to take part in the seventh annual Frieze Art Fair (www.friezeartfair.com), a key marketplace for contemporary art globally, with 173 galleries from 33 countries, showcasing more than 1,000 artists. Frieze’s success has inspired an autumn art jamboree throughout the city, stimulating satellite fairs, auction sales and shows in other galleries.

Started in 2003 by Frieze Magazine editors Matthew Slotover and Amanda Sharp to sell contemporary art to a growing cohort of international collectors, fair participants are vetted by a committee of their peers to attract blue-chip galleries, as well as a high-spending, contemporary-art-loving audience. “We provide a focused contemporary art fair—that is our appeal,” Ms. Sharp says.

Almost since its inception, Frieze stole contemporary thunder from those old ladies of the art market—Tefaf in Maastricht, strongest in Old Masters and antiques, and Art Basel, which spans both modern and contemporary. The appeal of Frieze, says art consultant Tanya Gertik, is “the energy and the buzz. It’s very sociable.”

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Courtesy of Cristina Grajales Gallery, New York

Sebastian Errazuriz’s ‘Porcupine Cabinet’ (2011) on show at PAD.

Since Frieze first opened, international art fairs, alongside their cousins—the biennials—have proliferated: Art Basel spawned Art Basel Miami Beach, which then generated Design Miami and, in turn, Design Miami Basel, set up to achieve the same market intensification for contemporary design that the mother fair had achieved for art. Older fairs, like Art Chicago and the Grosvenor House Art & Antiques Fair, have ceded some priority to newer fairs, such as Art Hong Kong and Masterpiece London.

But some collectors find the blockbuster model overwhelming, preferring a more intimate environment. “The minute a fair gets too large, the enjoyment goes out of it,” Ms. Gertik says. Bernard Hartogs, a collector of art and design, adds: “I don’t go to Frieze. It’s too big.” This is one reason why Frieze Week has also, quietly, become PAD week.

It was in 2007 that DesignArt first opened in Hanover Square, with just 19 galleries. Hoping to benefit from the seasonal delirium, French antique dealer Patrick Perrin and modern- and contemporary-art specialist Stéphane Custot, the founders of the successful Pavillon des Arts et du Design in Paris, launched a complementary fair to Frieze, offering one-off and limited-edition contemporary design mixed in with classic European modern design. A year later, the fair was offered Berkeley Square, a prime location, and the charmingly Continental mix of decorative arts, with modern and contemporary design, began to gel. By 2009, the duo felt confident enough to introduce modern art to the mix, experimenting in London with the formula pioneered in Paris. The renamed Pavilion of Art & Design London would invite galleries who specialized in fine art, decorative art or design that post-dated 1860—made after the advent of industrial mass manufacture, but without the contemporary art that is so well served in Regent’s Park.

Running through Sunday, PAD (www.padlondon.net), is small and selective, with only 58 galleries. The genial mix of art, design and fine craft—Cristina Grajales’s stand this week offers two striking cabinets by Christophe Côme and Sebastian Errazuriz, while Jousse Entreprise has a classic Jean Royère sofa—promotes a way of living with art as much as the buying of it.

Gérard Faggionato of Faggionato Fine Arts in London, says PAD “is comfortable, and people come back two or three times during the week.”

Like Frieze, PAD doesn’t issue an overall statement of sales, arguing that since sales often aren’t concluded until months after the event, such statistics are misleading. Instead, it points you to the quality of the exhibits. Andrew Duncanson from Modernity has rare pieces by Alvar Aalto; Todd Merrill, an outstanding 3.5-meter sculpture of a dandelion (circa 1960) by Harry Bertoia; and Bernard Jacobson, some magnificent Robert Motherwell canvases. “The material is very good,” Julian Treager, a collector of fine art, design and jewelry says. “Last year, I bought a vintage Cartier necklace from the 1970s. The year before, some pieces by Studio Job from Carpenters Workshop Gallery.”

For the past five years, these two very different fairs have flourished in a finely balanced symbiosis. Next year, however, things are set to change when Frieze launches Frieze Masters, a second fair that will partly encroach on PAD’s territory by exhibiting works of art from antiquity through 2000. Frieze Masters will occupy a marquee specially designed by New York art-space specialist Annabelle Selldorf, on the other side of Regent’s Park from the contemporary fair, with its own program of events. Ms. Sharp explains that they are “bringing a contemporary approach to historical art—we will bring this art to new audiences.” This initiative has been inspired by her recognition that “the past is present in every decision contemporary artists make. This is an opportunity to explore those connections more imaginatively.” Meanwhile, in May, Frieze hopes to recreate its London achievement in New York, with a contemporary fair on Randall’s Island Park, overlooking the East River.

PAD, however, remains unintimidated. Full of confidence in their concept, and with a line-up of loyal galleries, PAD too is launching a New York edition, Nov. 11-13. As Frieze and PAD continue in full swing, there is competitive tension in the air.

Mr. Perrin hopes his prime location, in Berkeley Square, will keep his modern dealers away from Frieze Masters. “If you bring the right collectors in front of the right booths, the dealers will trust you,” he says, adding that “Frieze had no interest in modern painting. The people from contemporary art have almost no interest in the past.”

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by J. J. Charlesworth

October 16, 2011

Frieze Art Fair

FRIEZE ART FAIRLondon13–16 October 2011

Was the lack of booze a sign? Previously on opening night in the big tent, waves of waiters would set out at a given time to distribute a slow flood of Pommery, gradually inebriating a crowd of revelers.

This year change is afoot. After a hard afternoon of strolling the boulevards of the fair, we started to wonder when the sparkling wave would hit us. So it was a shock to notice that bottles of Pom were being quietly distributed to each gallery stand, to be served at the discretion of the dealers. This year then, getting a drink depended on how much a gallerist decided they liked you. The horror of a critic dependent on a gallerist for a free drink!

But to be fair to the fair, rationing the booze was a good move; after all, as various gallerists I spoke to pointed out, opening night in recent years has tended to get a bit messy. And for sure, the more subdued, polite atmosphere this year seemed to demand more seriousness and consideration from the VIP crowd. But turning down the fizz-quota seems to reflect the broader sense of caution and unease in this year’s edition: with economic uncertainty and the threat of a further worldwide recession casting a shadow on the art market, the mood was definitely downbeat.

Money was clearly a preoccupation and not in a good way. One gallerist in the Frame section (the “emerging” gallery section) brooded over the hike in stand fees; and that, combined with the grinding increase in VAT imposed by the government this year, made turning a profit tougher than ever. Throughout the fair, the need to cover costs appeared to determine how gallerists filled their stands. In good years, you tend to see stands with less work, bigger work, or single-artist presentations. This year, however, clutter and density was the rule, with dealers presenting often-smaller works across a greater range of their artists. Large sculpture, apart from the biggest galleries who can still afford to hold sizeable spaces, was notably lacking. And by and large, dealers were playing it safe with the kind of work on offer: swathes of uncontroversial, positive, and colorful paintings and sculptures, easy for collectors to like, gave the fair a weirdly lurid visual buzz, but little punch.

Was it anxiety over sales that gave this year’s fair too much of the pile-it-high trade-fair vibe? Or was it the changes to the layout of the fair? It seems trivial, but the cafés and drink counters, previously located throughout the fair, had been tucked away in separate wings of their own. Not so trivial perhaps, as the same shift out from the main spaces was also imposed on those special artists’ commissions that art fairs nowadays like to indulge in, and which has often been a highlight of a visit to Frieze. Frieze Projects, curated for the second year by London curator Sarah McCrory, seemed this year almost invisible, with the bulk of them either offsite, web-based or shifted into discrete spaces on the periphery of the fair. Pierre Huyghe’s unnervingly dreamlike aquarium, Recollection—with its bemused hermit crab inhabiting a replica of Brancusi’s bronze Sleeping Muse (1910) and creepy spider crabs grazing on Mars-like pinkish rocks—was tucked away in a space behind the restaurant. Meanwhile, at the opposite end of the tent, Peles Empire (Katharina Stoever and Barbara Wolff) put up a vodka bar in a shared space with LuckyPDF (London internet-art hipsters) whose video studio was situated in a dark anteroom.

This only left Christian Jankowski’s bombastic and profoundly stupid The Finest Art on Water to occupy a space alongside the conventional stands. Jankowski’s project consisted of a 10m luxury motor yacht, being sold as a motor yacht, for €500,000. Alternatively, you could also buy it “as a work of art” for an extra €125,000. As far as “critical” gestures go, Jankowski’s insight into the vacuous intangibility of art-value displayed all the fatigued, witless cynicism of an art world now profoundly uncomfortable with the ethics of its relationship to private wealth, yet inertly incapable of doing anything about it. How else, also, to appreciate Michael Landy’s naively raging intervention at Thomas Dane’s stand? Visitors queued to have their credit cards shredded by a Tinguely-like credit card-munching machine, in return for various scrappy drawings by Landy. His bizarrely moralizing obsession with the ascetic rejection of consumer capitalism—at an art fair—seemed like a bad case of having your cake and not eating it.

Ironically, all this whining about the corruption of the art world by money accompanied a bit of belt-tightening when it came to the Frieze Projects and Frieze Talks themselves, with fewer projects and talks than in the last few editions—suggesting a budget cut, or at least a desire not to distract the punters too much from the urgent business of buying stuff, with or without their credit cards. It also starts to throw up the uneasy question of what kind of event Frieze Art Fair really is, especially when one considers that Frieze projects, for example, continues to receive public subsidy to put on artists’ commissions in what is essentially a trade fair for rich collectors, and where the entrance fee for members of the public unlucky enough not to have a VIP pass is now a dissuasive £27.

So the gloss, the glamour, and the fun of the fair have all faded a little. Frieze Art Fair needs to pay the bills and get ready for its leap across the Atlantic for its impending, Armory-busting edition next May in New York. On its Eastern Front, Frieze needs to stave off the increasing threat of the FIAC in Paris—and the danger that some galleries will opt for one over the other: already this year Barbara Gladstone and Friedrich Petzel have opted for FIAC without Frieze—perhaps a sign of things to come. In an art market no longer quite as fizzy and bubbly as before, the days of free-flowing champagne may not be back for some time.

JJ CHARLESWORTH is associate editor of ArtReview magazine http://www.artreview.com He blogs at blog.jjcharlesworth.com.

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Frieze Art Fair 2011.

1Frieze Art Fair 2011.

Pierre Huyghe, Recollection, 2011.

2Pierre Huyghe, Recollection, 2011.

Peles Empire, Noroc, 2011.

3Peles Empire, Noroc, 2011.

Live from Frieze Art Fair this is LuckyPDFTV.

4Live from Frieze Art Fair this is LuckyPDFTV.

Gagosian, Frieze Art Fair 2011.

5Gagosian, Frieze Art Fair 2011.

Christian Jankowski, The Finest Art on Water, 2011.

6Christian Jankowski, The Finest Art on Water, 2011.

Marine Hugonnier, Art For Modern Architecture Glr GuardianIranian Revolution/Hostage Crisis, Max Wigram Gallery.

7Marine Hugonnier, Art For Modern Architecture Glr GuardianIranian Revolution/Hostage Crisis, Max Wigram Gallery.

Michael Landy, Thomas Dane Gallery, 2011.

8Michael Landy, Thomas Dane Gallery, 2011.

Frieze Talks, 2011, Shooting Gallery: The Problems of Photographic Representation. Frieze Talks 2011.

9Frieze Talks, 2011, Shooting Gallery: The Problems of Photographic Representation. Frieze Talks 2011.

  • 1Frieze Art Fair 2011. Photo by Linda Nylind. All images courtesy of Frieze Art Fair.
  • 2Pierre Huyghe, Recollection, 2011. Commissioned and produced by Frieze Foundation for Frieze Projects 2011. Frieze Art Fair 2011. Photo by Polly Braden.
  • 3Peles Empire, Noroc, 2011. Commissioned and produced by Frieze Foundation for Frieze Projects 2011. Frieze Art Fair 2011. Photo by Polly Braden.
  • 4Live from Frieze Art Fair this is LuckyPDFTV. Commissioned and produced by Frieze Foundation for Frieze Projects 2011. Frieze Art Fair 2011. Photo by Polly Braden.
  • 5Gagosian, Frieze Art Fair 2011. Photo by Linda Nylind.
  • 6Christian Jankowski, The Finest Art on Water, 2011. Commissioned and produced by Frieze Foundation for Frieze Projects 2011. Frieze Art Fair 2011. Photo by Linda Nylind.
  • 7Marine Hugonnier, Art For Modern Architecture Glr GuardianIranian Revolution/Hostage Crisis, Max Wigram Gallery. Frieze Art Fair 2011. Photo by Linda Nylind.
  • 8Michael Landy, Thomas Dane Gallery, 2011. Frieze Art Fair 2011. Photo by Linda Nylind.
  • 9Frieze Talks, 2011, Shooting Gallery: The Problems of Photographic Representation. Frieze Talks 2011. Commissioned and produced by Frieze Foundation for Frieze Projects 2011. Photo by Polly Braden.

 

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ART OBSERVED

AO on site photoset – London, Frieze Week: Opening night of the The Return of the House of the Nobleman, private viewing

October 16th, 2011
Yves Klein all photos by Caroline Claisse for Art Observed

This year marked the 2nd iteration of the House of the Nobleman, a privately sponsored exhibition which took place at the Boswall House, 15,000sqft  mansion at 2 Cornwall Terrace, overlooking Regent’s Park and the Frieze 2011 Art Fair.  Art Observed was on site for the private viewing.  On view were works by Claude Monet, Auguste Rodin, Peter Paul Rubens, Edgar Degas, Max Ernst,  Damien Hirst, Marlene Dumas, Yves Klein, Lucio Fontana, Sigmar Polke, Christian Boltanski, Anish Kapoor, Nick Hornby, Matthew Day Jackson, Cecily Brown, Lucian Freud, Peter Fischli and David Weiss, Yayoi Kusama, Robert Longo, Alexander Calder, Eugenia Emets, Francesco Clemente, Salvador Dali,  Peter Doig,  Olafur Eliasson, George Condo, Takashi Murakami,  Hiroshi Sugimoto and Gerhard Richter.


Monet, Claude “ Chemin dans le brouillard”, (1879)

more images after the jump…


Boltanski, Christian “Reliquaire”, (1990)


Shaw, Raqib “Portrait of Dorothea Kannengeisser”, (2008)


Doig, Peter “C+ W (Country and Western)”, (1983)


Hirst, Damien “Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue”, (2000). Calder, Alexander “Enseigne de lunettes”, (1976)


(left) Richter, Gerhard “Entwurf fur Grund (Basic Draft)”, (1972)
(right) Ernst, Max “Fleurs sur Fond Vert”, (1928)


Zaha Hadid


Ho Ji Yong, “Wolf 4”, (2007)


Takashi Murakami


Rolf Sachs, Pullus Domesticus (2010)


Bouke de Vries, Like a prayer (2011)


Anish Kapoor, Untitled (circle), (1996)


Stefano Curto “Evolution Involution”, (2011)


House of the Nobleman – Exhibition Site

AO On Site (with Photoset) – London: Frieze Art Fair 2011 Day 2 Review

October 13th, 2011


Doug Aitken, Now (2011) at 303 Gallery NY. All photos for Art Observed by Caroline Claisse.

AO is on site in London for this week’s Frieze Art Fair. With 173 galleries selling an estimated $350 million worth of art, a level of anxiety pervades as the week’s results will be indicative of the overall international contemporary art market. Works like Christian Jankowski’s droll The Finest Art on Water and Michael Landy’s Credit Card Destroying Machine directly comment on the world economic state, while the overall demeanor remains upbeat, with art world moguls and A-list celebrities enjoying the festivities.


Michael Landy’s Credit Card Destroying Machine (2011), Thomas Dane Gallery

More text and images after the jump…


Christian Jankowski, The Finest Art on Water (2011).

Retired fashion designer Valentino was photographed on the smaller of two infamous Christian Jankowski boats. Priced at €65 million while simply a boat, the 204-foot yacht jumps to €75 million once deemed a piece of art—as approved (with certificate) by Jankowski. When the Guardian asked Jankowski how the global recession is impacting art, to which he replied, “I don’t see the effect. I’m not one of the people who ever made much money.” No buyer information has been released thus far.

The Financial Times reports that the Tate team has been buying with its £120,000 budget, seeking mostly familiar artists. Among others, they have acquired works by two important woman artists: the yellow Tumour (1969) by Alina Szapocznikow is a wall-based polyester sculpture in toxic yellow from Broadway 1602 of New York, and a portfolio of Portuguese artist Helena Almeida spans four decades of the artist’s drawings and photographs from Madrid’s Galeria Helga de Alvear.


Iwan Wirth, at Hauser and Wirth


Ida Applebroog Modern Olympia (after giotto) (1997-2001), Louise Bourgeois Untitled (2005) at Hauser and Wirth


Paul McCarthy at Hauser and Wirth


Thomas Houseago, Hermaphrodite (2011). In Regent’s Sculpture Park

Other major sales include the purchase of Haus des Lehrers (2003) by Neo Rauch, sold by David Zwirner to an American collector for $1,350,000. Thomas Houseago has also been selling well, with his sculpture Hermaphrodite (2o11) reported at $425,000 and his Earth Mask II (2011) sold through Hauser & Wirth.


Artist Michael Landy with his Credit Card Destroying Machine (2011), Thomas Dane Gallery

Despite the platform of optimism and glamor, Thomas Dane’s presentation of Michael Landy’s latest work draws attention to the contradiction of this year’s fair. Credit Card Destroying Machine (2011) does what its name suggests: in order to make a drawing, Landy’s odd conglomeration of rickety wires and dead animal heads destroys a credit card. The work on paper is then given freely to the viewer who volunteered a now ruined credit card.

Landy supervised the showcase on Wednesday, telling onlookers that the machine is intentionally “very human”—sometimes it breaks, sometimes it gets caught on things. The analytical and journalistic consensus is that the work speaks to the underlying tension of Frieze this year: although upbeat and enthralling, the financial complications paired with human error are an undeniable, often unspoken presence at the fair. Landy’s work successfully targets the mixed emotions via disseminating sensationalism. The work is on reserve for $189,000.

Tom Dingle, Gallery Director at Thomas Dane of London, confirmed that spirits were high. “I feel no looming dread,” he told AO, “Frieze is always good fun and all our friends are here.”


Pierre Huyghe, Recollection (2011).

Another popular work is Pierre Huyghe’s Recollection (2011). Crowds discussed the hermit crab living inside a Brancusi Muse replica (originally 1910) with adoration and fascination. The work is reminiscent of Brancusi’s work during Art Basel, which was juxtaposed with Richard Serra’s more contemporary black paintings at Fondation Beyeler.


Art dealer Jay Jopling at White Cube booth.

White Cube Bermondsey is the gallery’s third space in London at a very large 58,000 sq ft, with the full site totaling 1.7 acres (74,300 sq ft). Prior to its renovation, the building was a warehouse. Its inaugural exhibition, Structure  &  Absence, is on view through November 26th, which includes Chinese scholars’ rocks, and comments on the work of living artists Andreas Gursky, Damien Hirst and Gary Hume, among others. At the new space, White Cube includes an auditorium to host lectures and other programs. Founding dealer Jay Jopling was on site at Regent’s Park, speaking animatedly near Damien Hirst’s fresh pastel dot paintings.

Hirst features heavily in this week’s contemporary auction sales, which thus far have proven successful. A standout example is art star Jacob Kassay, whose work exceeded its estimate at Phillips de Pury by $147,000, officially selling at $257,000. Just two years ago, Phillips de Pury had priced him at $8,000, surprising everyone with an actual selling bid of $86,500. Tomorrow at Christie’s, Gerhard Richter’s Kerze, or Candle (1982) has a high estimate of nine million pounds.


Anish Kapoor at Lisson Gallery

Although powerful gallerists traditionally dominate the crowd on site and by reputation, this year was one for the artist and activist. Correspondingly, Art Review announced the 100 most powerful people in the art world, and Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei ranked number one, with gallery tycoons Larry Gagosian and Ivan Wirth at numbers 4 and 8. Ai Weiwei’s designation follows his recent release from arrest and detainment by the Chinese government earlier this year.

Asian influence on the fair has been hotly debated by art critics and journalists. The Chinese economy has been largely accepted as a global powerhouse, and so too as an art market one. In 2011, White Cube and Lehmann Maupin both sought to open galleries in East Asia, and Galeri Perrotin and Lehman Maupin continue to seek space. Gagosian Gallery has a showroom in Hong Kong, as inaugurated by Damien Hirst’s diamond-covered baby skull in the Forgotten Promises exhibition. Many of the galleries at Frieze now also show at Art HK in Hong Kong, which was purchased by Art Basel Miami.

Along with the Asian presence, South America stood out as well with works such as Brazilian gallery A Gentil Carioca’s Visiting Portraiture by Laura Lama. For 50 pounds, visitors can purchase a professional ‘makeover’—a portrait of the visitor at a much older age.


Urs Fischer, Untitled (2003), Gagosian Gallery

In a crowd of friends and notables, celebrity sightings were numerous. Musician Gwen Stefani, and models Natalia Vodianova and Elle Macphearson were counted in the crowd alongside collectors like Princess of Sharjah Hoor al-Qasimi, Sir Nicholas Serota of Tate, and the Serpentine Gallery‘s power duo Hans Ulrich Obrist and Julia Peyton-Jones (fresh from talks at Tuesday’s Bidoun Auction).

Ultimately, art, parties, and economic confidence largely diverge. Hesitations at the fair have yet to reveal booming sales results, and while the auction hammer prices are high, this does not fully quell fears. As the fair continues through the weekend, only time will tell.


Elmgreen & Dragset, The Fruit of Knowledge (2001), Victoria Miro Gallery


Art Dealer Thaddaeus Ropac at his booth.


Tony Cragg sculpture, Thaddaeus Ropac Booth


Erwin Wurm, Cajetan (2009), Thaddaeus Ropac Gallery


Antony Gormley at Thaddaeus Ropac


Bice Curiger, curator of the Venice Biennale


Artist Wim Delvoye


Pace Gallery’s Nicola Vassell


Chantal Crousel at her booth


Tacita Dean, More or Less (2011), Marian Goodman Gallery


Anri Sala, No Window No Cry (2010), Marian Goodman Gallery


Tara Donovan at Pace Gallery


Zhang Huan, Tara Donovan and Chuck Close at Pace Gallery


Jonathan Meese, Bortolami Gallery


Will Ryman, Rose (2011), Paul Kasmin Gallery


Jack and Dinos Chapman, The Milk of Human Weakness II and God Does Not Love You O.M.F.G., (both 2011), White Cube


Julian Opie, Modern Tower (2001), Lisson Gallery


Grayson Perry, Map of Truths and Beliefs (2011), Victorian Miro


Ali Banisadr, Time for outrage (2011), Marc Quinn, Shell sculpture (2011), Jason Martin Witch (2008), Jason Martin Witch (2008)


Pace Gallery


Sadie Coles Gallery


Sarah Lucas, Something Changed Raymond (2000), Sadie Coles Gallery


Tracey Emin, Sex Drawing Syndey Three (2007), Lehmann Maupin


Do Ho Suh, Cause & Effect (2007), Lehmann Maupin


Josiah McElhecny, Crystalline Landscape after hablik and Luckhardt III (2011), Donald Yound Gallery


Donald Yound Gallery


Mark Handforth, Coat Hanger (2010), Gavin Brown’s Enterprise


Nate Van Woert, Not Yet Titled 7 (2011), Galerie Yvon Lambert


Lehmann Maupin Gallery


Tracey Emin, And I Said I Love You! (2010), Lehmann Maupin


François Ghebaly Gallery LA


Darren Lago, Mickey de Balzac (grand) (2009-2011)


Darren Almond, Perfect Time 8×7 (2011), Matthew Marks Gallery

-A. Bregman

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http://we-make-money-not-art.com/archives/2011/12/frieze-art-fair.php#.UZHX1-t5FT4

Review of the Frieze Art Fair

0aie_eb2da36a5b.jpg
Paul Simon Richards for Live from Frieze Art Fair this is LuckyPDFTV. Photo by Polly Braden. Courtesy of Polly Braden/ Frieze

As many of you probably know, i love contemporary art fairs. Yes, it’s pure porn art and there’s too much to see, most of which is quite frankly bad. But there are good surprises as well and i don’t mind spending hours in front of painted horrors if at some point i stumble upon a piece that will move me. I’m that easy. Besides, art fairs expose me to works and artists i would otherwise never have accepted to look at.

That’s how in mid-October i found myself in Regent’s Park, London, clutching my hard earned press pass (did they make bloggers sweat to get an accreditation!), expecting to be blown away. Year after year, i had read about the Frieze art fair in mags and newspapers. It looked extravagant and fearless. It looked like an art fair i would enjoy.

Alas! What the 173 galleries exhibited inside the gigantic pavilion was a bit uneventful.
Maybe the euro crisis had compelled gallery owners to be cautious and somewhat conservative in their selection of art works. Maybe my expectations were too high. I walked from corridor desperate for some excitement to photograph.

I was keen to see Pierre Huyghe’s crab living inside a Brancusi head but i never managed to locate it. I didn’t manage to miss Christian Jankowski’s 65-metre yacht though. Made by a specialist boat builder, the luxury ship could be purchased at the merchant’s prize for €500,000. Or for €625,000 if you fancied having the artist sign it. The references were obvious (Duchamp, financial crisis, bling culture, etc.), the whole point not so much.

Of course it wasn’t all pain and gloom. The PM3 of the talks are online, there was Nathalie Djurberg! there was Nathalie Djurberg!, i ended up in The Guardian (albeit in a photo gallery showing people who confuse art fairs with fashion shows) and i did find works that make this post worthy of a quick scroll down:

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Michael Landy, Credit Card Destroying Machine, 2010 (Thomas Dane gallery). Photo by Linda Nylind. Courtesy of Frieze/ Linda Nylind

Michael Landy was showing a Tinguely-inspired eccentricity that shred your credit card in exchange of a drawing by the artist. You might remember that 10 years ago Landy spent 2 weeks destroying all of his worldly possession in an empty store on Oxford Street.

Over some 20 years, street photographer Igor Moukhin chronicled rallies and protest marches across Russia.

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Igor Moukhin, Resistance (XL gallery)

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Seb Patane, Untitled, 2011 (China Art Objects Galleries)

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Brian Griffiths, Bear Work Wear (black), 2011 (Vilma Gold gallery)

As i screamed earlier, there was Nathalie Djurberg! there was Nathalie Djurberg!

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Nathalie Djurberg, Woods, Gio Marconi. Photo by Linda Nylind. Courtesy of Linda Nylind/ Frieze

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Nathalie Djurberg, Woods, Gio Marconi. Photo by Linda Nylind. Courtesy of Linda Nylind/ Frieze

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Nathalie Djurberg, Woods, Gio Marconi. Photo by Linda Nylind. Courtesy of Linda Nylind/ Frieze

In Encounter(s), Tejal Shah collaborated with artist Varsha Nair. Wearing a straightjacket, outstretching their bodies, they wrapped themselves around pilars, across stairs, through gates and against other pieces of architecture. The work amplifies the paradox of our highly networked reality wherein technology variously connects, only to ironically distance us.

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Tejal Shah, Encounter(s), 2006

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Marina Abramovic, The Levitation of Saint Teresa, 2010 (Lisson Gallery)

Probably my favourite painting at the fair:

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Miriam Cahn, Herumstehen, 2005 (Elizabeth Dee gallery)

In case you were wondering ‘how much does the work below cost?’, i found some figures online: In Frame, the section in the fair for young galleries showing solo artist presentations supported for a second year by Cos, sales were also substantial. François Ghebaly sold out their Patrick Jackson booth, selling Dirt Pile on Table (roots&glass) (2011) priced at $9,000; two versions of Heads, hands and feet (2011) for $15,000 and 3 dirt pile sculpture for $20,000 all to significant international collectors.

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Patrick Jackson, Head, Hands and Feet (black) + Head, Hands and Feet (red), 2011 (François Ghebaly Gallery)

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Wolfgang Tillmans. Faltenwurf (Grey), 2011 (Galerie Chantal Crousel)

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Dawn Mellor, South African Gallerist Kristen Scott Thomas is showing neo-institutional critique works by Zurich based artist Chaz Bono, 2011 (Team Gallery)

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Ken Okiishi, Manhattan Transfer (Alex Zachary gallery)

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Tobias Zielony, Yet Untitled (#14), 2009 (KOW Berlin)

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Tobias Zielony, Powwow, 2009 (KOW Berlin)

Alex Hartley (of the Nowherisland fame) was showing what looked like a photo of the Unabomber cabin. Close (very close) inspection revealed that it was a sculpture with the architectural model carved and built into the photography of the landscape itself. The series is on show at Victoria Miro this Winter.

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Alex Hartley, Waiting for Daylight to End (Kaczynski Cabin), 2011

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Cinthia Marcelle, O Cosmopolita, 2011

This is the billy-goat costume that Paweł Althamer wore to travel the world on the footsteps of a Polish children’s-book character.

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Pawel Althamer, The Billy-Goat, 2011

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Glenn Ligon, Negro Sunshine, 2006

No art fair is conceivable without at least one work from Elmgreen and Dragset (i spotted 3 at Frieze):

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Elmgreen and Dragset, The Fruit of Knowlege, 2011

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Taryn Simon, The Wailing Wall, Mini Israel, Latrun, 2007

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Cornelia Parker, 30 Pieces of Silver (with reflection), Frith Street Gallery

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Matthew Brannon (Casey Kaplan Gallery)

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Oleg Kulik, Kulik vs. Koraz, 1997 (XL gallery)

Sorry i have no title nor author for the following works:

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More images.
Photo on the homepage: Paul Simon Richards for Live from Frieze Art Fair this is LuckyPDFTV. Photo by Polly Braden. Courtesy of Polly Braden/ Frieze.

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FINANCIAL TIMES LONDON

October 12, 2011 7:06 pm

Frieze Art Fair, Regent’s Park, London

Five-day event will showcase $350m worth of art displayed by 173 galleries

London’s Frieze Art Fair opened its doors to VIP guests on Wednesday in an optimistic mood, defiantly showcasing the beautiful, the bohemian and the bizarre despite the volatility in world markets and concerns over the impact on the art world.

High-profile collectors and celebrities such as Russian entrepreneur Evgeny Lebedev and model Elle Macpherson gathered in Regent’s Park at London’s leading fair for the sale of contemporary art, which traditionally sees millions of pounds change hands.

This market has enjoyed several years of strong growth, especially at the top end, but amid global economic uncertainty and in the wake of a few weak London auctions last week, dealers are anxious to see if sales of contemporary art will hold up.“The market feels sound. For people who have accumulated wealth contemporary art is, in a way, one of the most sophisticated ways of enjoying it…But people do say that the middle part of the market is suffering,” said Nicholas Logsdail, owner of London’s Lisson Gallery, which made five sales in the first three hours.

The White Cube gallery reported brisk trade, selling Antony Gormley’s “Spy”, a rusted steel standing figure, for £300,000 as well as Andreas Gursky’s “Cocoon II” for €600,000. An untitled 2011 painting by Mark Bradford also sold for $400,000. New York’s David Zwirner Gallery, meanwhile, sold a 2003 work by the German painter Neo Rauch for $1.35m to a US collector.

Hiscox, the insurers, have estimated that the five-day event will showcase $350m worth of art, $25m less than last year, displayed by 173 galleries from all round the world, including dealers from Colombia, Peru and Argentina for the first time. As in previous years, the fair also includes a sculpture park.

Many of the pieces on display use the internet and social networking to examine the role of information. A project by the German artist Oliver Laric will exist online only – he is filming the fair and creating an archive of slow-motion footage.

Matthew Slotover, co-founder of Frieze, said: “More galleries applied than ever before to take part. When the markets turned down in August we were worried but good art always sells. This is about getting quality works through the door.”

Laurence Tuhey, associate director of the Timothy Taylor Gallery, said there had been significant interest in the New York-based artist Kiki Smith. Her stained glass piece “A Behold” sold in the afternoon for $125,000. “We had expected doom and gloom but the energy at the start of the fair was really good,” he said.

Among the more experimental pieces of art on display yesterday included Beijing artist Liu Wei’s video installation called “The 400 Blows” in which 400 men pull down their trousers and show their bottoms to the camera. French artist Pierre Huyghe created an aquarium featuring a hermit crab

The fair’s “Frame” section, dedicated to young galleries displaying solo artists, was bigger than in previous years. “This is the younger more experimental side of the market. But the work sells if the work is good,” said Francois Ghebaly, owner of the Ghebaly gallery.

Mr Ghebaly was displaying American artist Patrick Jackson’s work. Within two hours he had sold Mr Jackson’s “dirt piles” – tables piled with dung-like dirt, for $9,000.

Auctions at Sotheby’s Christie’s, Bonhams and Phillips de Pury will be held at the end of “Frieze Week” including Bonhams’ first “Contemporary One” sale on Thursday.

“People are generally quite nervous in the contemporary art market after the collapse of Lehman’s when the market fell off a cliff. That could easily happen again,” said Robert Read, fine art expert at specialist art insurer Hiscox.

“There is a hell of a lot of cash held by the uber wealthy that is looking for a home to go to. There are not that many investment opportunities generally at the moment. So the purchasing power is there but whether they will be tempted by the contemporary art market is another matter.”

Stefan Ratibor, director of the Gagosian gallery, which sold seven pieces in the first three hours said: “Sometimes we sell more sometimes we sell less but it is really too early to comment on the state of the market. We need to wait and see what happens in the auctions at the end of the week.”

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http://www.artnet.com/magazineus/features/yablonsky/frieze-art-fair-10-25-11.asp

Close Encounters

FRIEZE WRAP 2011

by Linda Yablonsky

 

The Frieze Art Fair takes place each October in central London, under a very big tent in Regent’s Park. The 2011 edition, the fair’s ninth, accommodated 173 galleries, and from the Oct. 12 VIP preview through the Oct. 16 close, 60,000 visitors passed through. It’s anyone’s guess how much money changed hands — with those numbers, presumably quite a lot. Despite the sinking global economy, there is money for art in London. There is also art for money.

At Frieze, Michael Landy and Christian Jankowski presented projects that made that point crystal clear. Landy is the YBA who publicly destroyed all his possessions in 2001– more than 7,000 items, everything inventoried beforehand — in a giant machine he built for the purpose, as a site-specific project for Artangel.

What a difference a decade makes. Landy brought a new, more Tinguely-like machine to London dealer Thomas Dane’s stand at Frieze. This crowd-pleaser, a 12-foot-tall assemblage of saws, animal skulls, hand puppets and countless gears, destroyed credit cards proffered by game collectors. In return, each received a drawing in marker made on the spot by the same machine, but signed by the artist. (The machine was priced at $189,000. No word on any takers.)

Jankowski’s readymade sculpture was even more absurd. One of nine commissions for Frieze Projects, a nonprofit (ha!) program curated by the Frieze Foundation’s Sarah McCrory, it was actually an Aquariva Cento speedboat that was dry-docked beside the model of a Ferretti super-yacht, the kind super-rich collectors parked in front of the Giardini during opening week of the current Venice Biennale — Jankowski’s inspiration for the project.

Both boats were for sale, either as personal sailing vessels or as Christian Jankowski artworks — lusting collectors had their choice. (For the speedboat, the price was £500,000; as an artwork, it went up to £650,000. The built-to-order yacht was going for €65 million; as a certified Jankowski, it would cost €75 million.)

A salesman from Ferretti, trained by the artist, was on hand to make the pitch either way. “Only by completing the deal does the artwork exist,” Jankowski said. At this writing, it is still a boat. And Frieze is still a marketplace, though I did appreciate the attempt to provide commentary and context for the fair’s vast expanse of art merchandise. And humor is always welcome when serious money is afloat.

Still, salesmanship is the name of the game at an art fair, where the best art is the art that sells itself. Evidently, that was the case at the front-and-center Gagosian Gallery stand, which was wrapped in posters gathered by Franz West. The artist was also represented by a pink, raised-finger bronze, a smaller version of the one he made for Venice. It sold early on, as did a Dan Colen painting that featured a supermarket cart and went for a good six figures.

Also at Gagosian, a fetching wall work of bulging ceramic pots by Piotr Uklanski was priced at $150,000. An equally effulgent red-on-black resin painting by Uklanski held a wall at the booth of Milan dealer Massimo de Carlo, who was offering as well a palm tree-on-bathroom tile painting by Rashid Johnson and a cartoony Kaari Upson drawing that amounted to an exegesis of her work to date.

Though Gavin Brown’s enterprise won the fair’s award for best booth with a clean, straightforward hang, I pegged Greene Naftali’s for the most colorful presentation. Anchored by a red, white and blue flying-drawing-table construction by Guyton/Walker, it showed a silvery, Jacqueline Humphries painting that is among her best yet, a terrific Rachel Harrison amalgamation, and a wall of monochrome paintings by Paul Chan that used old books as canvases. “It’s about the ambiguity of knowledge,” Carol Greene explained.

Dealers trade in information, and like everyone else, I went not just to look at art but to talk about it. Conversation is what rules an art fair, which is just another word for social networking, allowing people who might envy or despise each other in normal circumstances to bond over art. The passion grows in the aisles and spreads via daily after-fair dinners and inebriating parties, where the discussion continues, and deals are consummated, alliances are created, and opportunities for further discussion crop up.

Talk, as the one of the Sunday papers would note, is the new art form, and London was full of it. The fair hosted its own series of artist conversations, while at the ICA, Paul Chan had a face-off with Museum Ludwig director Kasper Koenig. Artist and filmmaker Duncan Campbell appeared at Hotel Gallery’s new Herald Street space (Wolfgang Tillmans‘ former studio) for a discussion of European economic theory with author John Lanchester that was as stimulating as Campbell’s postcard-based film about German economist Hans Tietmeyer was engrossing.

And at the Serpentine Gallery, co-director Hans Ulrich Obrist hosted his annual Frieze weekend marathon, an avant-garde variety show of brief lectures and performances. It really should be televised, though I’m not sure that Rodney Graham‘s lobbing of potatoes at a gong would be as edifying on the small screen as it was in person.

In fact, what Frieze has going for it is London, where exhibitions in museums and nonprofit spaces opening at the same time lend some welcome depth to the homogenizing effect of sheer commerce.

Tate Modern had Gerhard Richter and Tacita Dean. The Serpentine had films by Anri Sala. The Hayward Gallery had retrospectives for Pipilotti Rist and George Condo, the Whitechapel Gallery featured Wilhelm Sasnal, and the Camden Arts Centre had new videos by Nathalie Djurberg, who went all out at the fair and installed her furry, fantastically grotesque plasticine puppet sculptures in the stand of Gio Marconi from Milan.

If I had been a buyer at Frieze, I might have gone for an untitled abstract painting by Glaswegian Cathy Wilkes, a beauty that The Modern Institute sold easily for £15,000. I also liked Ryan Gander‘s Self-Portrait, a spread of palette-like glass discs bearing paint smears, that Lisson Gallery sold for £60,000.

But I was most intrigued by a Richard Wentworth book sculpture trailing audio tape and ribbons and placed high up on a mirrored shelf in the same booth — the only work in it that didn’t find a buyer. “There were conservation concerns,” said Lisson’s Nicholas Logsdail.

No such issues came up at Hollybush Gardens’ booth, where a long scroll of cheap paper marked with council-flat coal dust by Knut Henrikson was selling to DIY-minded collectors who relished the chance to recreate it themselves as soon as the paper disintegrated.

That and the Landy and Jankowski gestures aside, however, daring was not in the fair’s character. Not that it ever can be when the stakes are high, though that seems all the more reason for dealers to be bold.

A twisted Madonna and Child painting and sculpture by Jake & Dinos Chapman, at the entrance to White Cube‘s booth, was about as radical as anyone got, but it wasn’t half as compelling as Miroslaw Balka‘s skull-like glass rock encased in rusted wire, a work from 2007, in the same booth. Nor was it as sexy as Tillmans’ big blue abstract C-print at Maureen Paley‘s stand, where it sold for $78,000.

But who cares about prices when there are discoveries to be made? That was the draw for the Sunday fair, Oct. 13-16, 2011, an unpretentious satellite show of 20 young galleries organized by Limoncello Gallery director Rebecca May Marston. As the fair was located in the bowels of a university basement, finding it alone was an adventure. Inside, its open plan strongly resembled New York’s Independent fair, with overlapping presentations and friendly young dealers eager to do the required duty — talk about the art.

But what brought it all back home were the four elevating gouaches of plastic bottles and glassware by Allyson Vieria offered by Lower East Side dealer Laurel Gitlen. For me, they were the art highlight of the week, exciting enough to make me wish for $4,500 to burn.

Just goes to show: when it’s truth and beauty you want, look first in your own backyard. Come May, that’s where Frieze reappears next — on Randall’s Island in the East River. How well it makes the transfer to the shores of New York is open to question.

Let’s talk.
LINDA YABLONSKY is an art critic who writes for Artforum.com, the Art Newspaper, T: The New York Times Style Magazine, W and other publications.

Reports on 2012 Frieze Fair London and Frieze Masters

Our Parents, by Zuang Huan

FRIEZE LONDON ::
AND BEYOND

Oh London! One always feels at the center of the universe. All the buzz, all the hype, all the chic&vip is right here, just at your hand’s reach.
As if one art fair wasn’t enough, Frieze, that has reached its 10th year, has doubled its capacity with Frieze Masters that collects and displays artworks from the 13th century until the year 2000. So if you are tired of all those newcomers on the other pavilion and miss your Picasso or Brancusi, just pop in here, in the quieter and posher gray hallways where Dali, Avedon and Freud talk classly to each other.
Frieze is gossip, parties, sales, talks, and art, of course. But London is so much more than Frieze. Just to give you an idea of how busy this town can be, let me mention the openings in this same week of Kiki Smith, Luc Tuymans and Anish Kapoor, topped off by Edward Munch closing at the Tate Modern, Christie’s Multiplied - another art fair -, PAD in Berkeley Square (Pavilion of Art and Design) and finally SUNDAY, another little sister of Frieze, the scrappy one that is becoming a swan. And last but not least, just to entertain a few more people, there was London Cocktail Week andLondon Film Festival, with stars such as Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter in town.

Are you still on your feet? Then run to the next party where champagne runs as water. Do you think you need to be one and thrine? Yes, you do. So for next year, if you plan to come, you better shape up.
VIPs here are very much taken care of with private views and openings on selected times and hours and I was fortunate enough to jump on this bandwagon a couple of times during this week.
On Tuesday 9th, I was at Paul Fryer‘s opening at The Hospital Club, one of those fantastic private spaces (and proud sponsors of Frieze) that would make any gallerist happy. Fryer is a well known visionary British artist who was recently at Gucci Museum in Florence. His exhibition Undivided Light was one of those little gems that didn’t go under Frieze’s tents because they deserve a better showcase. He was of course the star of the night, greeting, drinking and meeting everyone, always with a smile and as joyful as a child in a candystore. When I finally managed to talk to him he told me he was “very happily drunk for the outcome of the night” and confessed  that “we need more visionary artists and more people who believe in the impossible possibility that we can change this world. But even more than that, we, naive artists, we do need more supporters “. Then I asked if he was planning to come to Italy again and he said that all the works on show were probably going to Turin for Artissima or Milan or Florence “but we are still talking because the Italians like to talk. A lot”.

In the meantime Charles Saatchi was buying his “Suspended woman” for an undisclosed amount of pounds.
And then Frieze opened, the public was quietly queuing as only the Brits know how to and the market was booming, as always, as expected. A few hours in and Hauser&Wirth were already selling the disgustingly interesting head of Snow White by Paul McCarthy. But. But there’s a big but this year, because collectors and dealers are choosing more wisely, less Damien Hirst and more Kippenberger, Bourgeois and Schutte. And a propos of Damien Hirst, his much talked about horrific gigantic statue “Verity” is now in Northam’s harbour and it will stay there for 20 years. Nobody wanted it, but this is the downside of having such an haunting artist as a local celebrity.
Haunting is a word that instead works well with Luc Tuymans’ works, but not in this exhibition Allo! where the Belgian painter was present for another VIP view at 24 Grafton Street. Here collector and gallerist David Zwirner has set new heights, also in terms of gallery space. A stunning three-storey building almost as precious as the painter he shows. Allo! takes inspiration from Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness but ends up talking about the final scene of the 1942 film The Moon and Sixpence, which is itself an adaptation of W. Somerset Maugham’s eponymous novel from 1919. The plot is loosely based upon the life of Paul Gauguin and its Tahiti journey. Not as striking as other works from Luc but certainly worth stopping by.
A few steps away from the champagne and mojitos in Grafton Street, in the same night, Kiki Smith was offering beers (yes, you read right!) at her VIP meetings and greetings at Timothy Taylor Gallery where she was presenting Behold, a series of works in bronze, porcelain, stained glass in which she was “exploring this new concept of female, feminine and repetition through the recovery of medieval art techniques”. She was all smiles and happiness and seemed in great shape. But beer? No way!!
And now that this is over, what will remain after 175 exhibitors from 35 countries will go home? A few interesting pieces, a gigantic circus that keeps moving on and on and that will now jump on other flights to Paris for FIAC and in a few months to Miami for Art Basel, and again to New York for the American edition of Frieze. Are contemporary art fairs still a great conveyor of ideas through which understand and perceive reality or just big banks on the go?
Mh…

Elena Dal Forno
15.10.2012 

Our Parents, by Zuang Huan

Frieze London is an annual fair showcasing contemporary art from around the world. Celebrating its tenth anniversary, the exhibition takes place in central London and runs from 11-14 October 2012.

AO On Site – London: Frieze London and Frieze Masters Summary and photoset, October 14th, 2012

October 14th, 2012

Lynda Benglis and Hans Hurting at Cheim & Read
Lynda Benglis sculptures and Hans Hurting paintings at Cheim & Read’s booth at Frieze Masters. All photos by Caroline Claisse for Art Observed unless otherwise noted

Frieze Masters and Frieze London concluded on October 14th, with both fairs reporting solid sales on the high end. This year, there was a distinct focus on curated booths and curatorial projects and less of an overt feeling of commercialization. Frieze Masters in particular focused on serious connoisseurship and an academic approach, both of which translated into a successful fair for dealers.

Alexander Calder Triumphant Red 1959-63 at Helly Nahmad
A massive Calder hanging mobile, Triumphant Red , 1959-63 at Helly Nahmad’s booth at Frieze Masters was priced at $20 million

Auction week also coincided with the fairs, as well as the numerous exhibitions in private galleries and museums. In addition, Pace Gallery, David Zwirner, Per Skarstedt and Michael Werner inaugurated new spaces in London.

A Robert Mangold Painting, Red Frame/Yellow Ellipse, 1988 at Barbara Mathes Gallery at Frieze Masters

A Robert Mangold Painting, Red Frame/Yellow Ellipse, 1988 at Barbara Mathes Gallery at Frieze Masters

At Frieze, White Cube sold a new Damien HirstDestruction Dreamscape, for £500,000; Hauser & Wirth sold Paul McCarthy’White Snow Head for £812,000 reportedly10 minutes after opening. At Frieze Masters, there were reports of at least two strong Picasso sales: Homme et Femme au bouquet, 1979 sold for $8.5 million at Christophe Van de Weghe’s booth; Acquavella also reported a Picasso sale of $9.5 million for its Buste d’Homme, 1969.

Sol LeWitt Open Geometric Structure _1990_Lisson Gallery
Sol LeWitt, Open Geometric Structure, 1990 (on floor) and John Latham, Untitled, 1958 (on wall) at Lisson Gallery, Frieze Masters

Frieze London (formerly Frieze Art Fair) has grown in size in the past ten years – 264 dealers from 35 countries showed work by over 2,400 artists. Compared to 2003, 124 galleries from 16 countries showed the work of 1,200 artists in a space about half the size. 27,000 visitors attended Frieze in 2003, compared to the approximately 60,000 this year. This was the first year for Frieze Masters, which also took place in Regent’s park.

Installation View of Pace Gallery's booth at Frieze London courtesy Pace Gallery
Installation View of Pace Gallery’s booth at Frieze London, photo courtesy Pace Gallery

The total revenue for both fairs was over $1 billion, according to preliminary estimates by the insurer Hiscox Ltd.

Zhang Huan at White Cube
A Zhang Huan ash painting at White Cube’s booth at Frieze London, photo by Art Observed

Brazilian Gallery A Gentil Carioca at Frieze London
Installation view of booth of the Brazilian gallery, A Gentil Carioca, at Frieze London

Carol Bove The White Tubular Glyph 2012 David Zwirner
Carol Bove, The White Tubular Glyph, 2012 at David Zwirner’s booth at Frieze London

Fiona Tan Vox Popula London 2012 Frith Street Gallery
Fiona Tan, Vox Popula London 2012 at Frith Street Gallery’s booth at Frieze London

Gillian Wearing My Hand 2012 Maureen Paley
Gillian Wearing, My Hand, 2012 at Maureen Paley’s booth at Frieze London

Rosenquist, The Facet 1978 at Acquavellas booth at Frieze Masters
James Rosenquist, The Facet, 1978 at Acquavella’s booth at Frieze Masters

Frieze Projects Grizedale Arts, Yangjiang Group, Colosseum of the Consumed
Frieze Projects: Grizedale Arts, Yangjiang Group, Colosseum of the Consumed

A fairgoer at Frieze London
A fairgoer at Frieze London

Frieze London
Frieze London

Frieze London
Frieze London

Haegue Yang Flip Fleet Flow Units 2012 Kukje Gallery
Haegue YangFlip Fleet Flow Units 2012 at Kukje Gallery’s booth at Frieze London

Bosco Sodi at Eigen+Arts booth at Frieze London photo by Art Observed
Bosco Sodi at Eigen+Art’s booth at Frieze London, photo by Art Observed

Donald Judd Untitled 1980 David Zwirner booth
Donald Judd, Untitled 1980, David Zwirner’s Frieze Masters booth

Alberto Giacometti at Thomas Gibson Fine Art,
Alberto Giacometti drawing and sculpture at Thomas Gibson Fine Art’s booth at Frieze Masters

Colle & Cortes Jusepe de Ribera
Aristotle by Jusepe de Ribera (1591‐1652) at Coll & Cortés’ booth at Frieze Masters

Thomas Schutte Wichte 2007 Frith Street Gallery
Thomas Schütte Wichte 2007 Frith Street Gallery’s booth at Frieze London

Standard Gallery Oslo
Installation View, Standard Oslo’s booth at Frieze London

Pilar Corrias London
Installation View, Pilar Corrias London’s booth at Frieze London

Ricci Albenda Sunrise_Sunset 2012 Marc Camille Chaimowicz Carpet III 2009 Andrew Kreps Gallery
Ricci Albenda, Sunrise Sunset 2012, Marc Camille Chaimowicz, Carpet III, 2009 at Andrew Kreps Gallery at Frieze London

Marina Abramovic at Galerie Krinzinger Vienna
Marina Abramovic’s work at Galerie Krinzinger Vienna’s booth at Frieze London

Rosemarie Trockel Phobia 2002 Sprueth Magers Berlin London
Rosemarie Trockel, Phobia 2002 Sprüth Magers‘ booth at Frieze London

Sarah Lucas Mumum 2012 Sadie Coles
Sarah Lucas, Mumum 2012 at Sadie Coles’ booth at Frieze London

Farhad Moshiri Woman combing 2012 Thaddaeus Ropac
Farhad Moshiri, Woman Combing, 2012 at Thaddaeus Ropac’s booth at Frieze London

Thomas Scheibitz, Tanya Bonakdar
Thomas Scheibitz, Smiley (2009), courtesy Tanya Bonakdar Gallery and Sprüth Magers Berlin London, in Frieze Sculpture Park, photo by Art Observed

Peter Liversidge Ingleby Gallery
Peter Liversidge’s Everything is Connected, 2012, courtesy Ingleby Gallery, in Frieze Sculpture Park, photo by Art Observed

-V. Artzimovich

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http://db-artmag.de/en/71/feature/dynamic-duo-preview-frieze-london-and-frieze-masters/

Dynamic Duo
Preview Frieze London and Frieze Masters

Since its premiere in 2003, Frieze London has grown to become what is probably the most important fair for contemporary art worldwide. As main sponsor, Deutsche Bank has been Frieze’s partner since 2004. To mark its 10th anniversary, the art fair is now on a mission to expand: following Frieze New York, it currently launches Frieze Masters, which shows art from antiquity to the 20th century from a contemporary perspective. Another reason to visit the British capital during “Frieze Week.”

In May, the first Frieze New York took place on Randall’s Island, located in the East River between Manhattan and Brooklyn. The start of the fair was highly promising, and the public and press alike were excited about it. “Frieze Art Fair electrifies New York” was how the Wall Street Journal summed it up. But the art fair in the British capital is also expanding. Frieze Masters now takes place parallel to Frieze London, which focuses on current works by living artists. Deutsche Bank, the main sponsor, also cooperates with the two new Frieze fairs.Over 90 international galleries show art from antiquity to the 20th century at Frieze Masters — in a temporary architecture designed by Annabelle Selldorf. The architect is considered to be a specialist for rooms in which art is presented and produced. Selldorf has not only designed the galleries of Barbara Gladstone and David Zwirner, but also the studios of Jeff Koons and David Salle. For Frieze Masters, she has created a design that is both elegant and contemporary. The new fair can be reached comfortably by foot from Frieze London, as it also takes place in Regents Park. Thus, visitors can inform themselves about current trends and also rediscover older art and classics of the 20th century from a contemporary perspective.

The expectations for the new fair are high. “Frieze Masters will attract the world’s most adventurous and imaginative art collectors to London,” says Nicholas Penny, Director of the London National Gallery. “The fair is designed to revolutionise the relationship between ancient and modern, old and new.” The Spotlight section is bound to be particularly exciting. Here, 22 galleries from the US and Germany as well as from Lebanon, Portugal, and Romania will each present a selected position from the 20th century. The focus is on conceptual and feminist positions from the 1960s and 1970s. These are the “pioneers working at one of the most radical periods of art history,” according to Adriano Pedrosa. The curator of the 2011 Istanbul Biennial acts as consultant to the fair in its selection of galleries for the Spotlight section.

Part of Frieze Masters’ contemporary approach are the talks that take place in the framework of the fair: for instance Cecily Brown, who processes influences by painters such as William Hogarth and Willem de Kooning in her gestural, expressive canvases, talks to Nicholas Penny about her reinterpretations of traditional art historical themes. While Glenn Brown discusses his versions of paintings by artists as varied as Georg Baselitz and Fragonard with Bice Curiger, Luc Tuymans explains how he turns historical events into painting in a conversation with Louvre curator Dominique de Font-Réaulx.

The tenth run of Frieze London is the most international to date: 170 exhibitors from 34 countries present themselves in fair tents designed, as last year, by the architectural firm Carmody Groarke. The new Focus section is reserved for younger galleries who opened after 2000. Some of those selected are Algus Greenspon (New York), Casas Riegner (Bogota), Chatterjee & Lal (Mumbai), and Chert (Berlin). The Frame section also dedicates itself to young galleries, showing exclusively solo presentations. The fact that 16 of the 21 galleries are taking part in the London fair for the first time promises fascinating discoveries. At the François Ghebaly Gallery (Los Angeles), visitors can experience the legendary underground filmmaker Mike Kuchar as draftsman. Experimenter (Calkutta) introduces the artist Bani Abidi, who was born in Pakistan and lives in India. In her humorous works, she trenchantly addresses the political and cultural differences and similarities between the two neighboring enemy states.

To prevent visitors from losing orientation despite the immense amount of art on view, Frieze implements innovative technology: visitors can download a free app for their iPhones and iPads, including an interactive plan of the fair—a service once again made possible by Deutsche Bank. As main sponsor, it presents itself at the fair with its lounge, where works from the Deutsche Bank Collection are juxtaposed under the title Pairs. At the premiere of Frieze Masters, works of Classic Modernism meet with contemporary works: Piet Mondrian, Vassily Kandinsky, David Bomberg, and Andreas Feininger encounter Daniel Richter, Ugo Rondinone, Adrian Paci, and Frank Auerbach. Between the pairs, correspondences in form and content arise that span decades. In addition, preliminary drawings to Keith Tyson’s 12 Harmonics are on view in the lounge. The monumental painting series was installed at the end of last year in the entrance hall of Deutsche Bank’s London Head Office. One of the drawings was auctioned off to benefit Help a Capital Child and the Meningitis Research Foundation.

Anyone interested in visiting ArtMag, which is celebrating its 10th anniversary this October, should come to the press booths at Frieze London, where visitors can surf through the latest issue at stand M 20 and even win a trip to the next Frieze New York. Every subscriber to the ArtMag newsletter has a chance to win two plane tickets to New York including two nights at a hotel and two VIP tickets to the fair.

From the very beginning, the advanced accompanying program of films, talks, and commissioned works has played an important role in forging Frieze’s image. For this year’s Frieze Projects, curated by Sarah McCrory, Thomas Bayrle, Aslı Çavuşoğlu, DIS magazine, Grizedale Arts / Yangjiang Group and Joanna Rajkowska created site-specific interventions. While real actors from a TV crime series take part in Çavuşoğlu’s performance Murder in Three Acts, Bayrle accentuates the fair entrance with print works consisting of his typical motifs reproduced by the hundreds. The pioneer of European Pop Art has long been part of the Deutsche Bank Collection; his contribution to this year’s documenta was one of the highlights of the show.

Frieze London expects prominent guests for the talks, too: Tino Sehgal discusses conceptual art, choreography, and the work of art as object with Jörg Heiser, while John Waters converses with Sturtevant about the theme “stupidity.” Waters began his career making infamous trash films like Pink Flamingos and Female Trouble; he now exhibits as an artist in the New Museum and at Gagosian. With her imitations of the icons of contemporary art, Sturtevant questions everything we think we know about the original and originality, aura and authorship. To arrange for an artist who says that she’s interested in nothing but making people think to get together with John Waters to talk about, of all things, stupidity guarantees an event that will be both funny and inspiring. Really, only the makers of Frieze would come up with an idea like that.

Achim Drucks

Frieze London/Frieze Masters
Regents Park, London
October 11 – 14, 2012


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ARTSATION

First impressions from Frieze Art Fair and Frieze Masters

First visitors at Galerie Barbara Thumm, work by Teresa Burga,
Frieze Masters 2012, 
Spotlight, 
Image: Linda Nylind/ Frieze

The tenth edition of Frieze London takes place in London’s Regent’s Park from 11–14 October 2012. With exhibitors from 35 countries the tenth edition of Frieze London is the most international event organised by Frieze.

Participating Territories:

Argentina, Hungary, Austria, India, Belgium, Ireland, Brazil, Israe,l Canada, Italy, 
China, Japan, Colombia, Korea, Czech, Republic, Lebanon, Denmark, Mexico, France, Netherlands, Germany, Norway, Greece, Poland, Portuga,l Romania, South, Africa, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Turkey, UAE, UK and USA

Frieze London is a presentation of 175 of the most forward- thinking contemporary galleries and will present new work by over 1,000 of the world’s most innovative artists. This year the fair is once again housed in a bespoke temporary structure designed by architects Carmody Groarke.

The tenth edition features a new section: Focus, open to galleries established after 2001, showing up to three artists. Focus was first introduced at Frieze New York, which took place 4–7 May 2012 in Randall’s Island Park, Manhattan. The Frame section of the fair is dedicated to galleries under six-years old, showing solo artist presentations. The selection of the 25 Frame galleries was advised by curators Rodrigo Moura and Tim Saltarelli. Frame is supported by COS.

This year, coinciding with Frieze London, Frieze also introduces Frieze Masters, a new fair with a contemporary perspective on historical art. Together the crossover between the two fairs will make London the focus for a broad international art audience.

Frieze Projects

Frieze Projects is a unique programme of artists’ commissions realised annually at Frieze Art Fair. Frieze Projects is curated by Sarah McCrory and supported by the Emdash Foundation with additional support from Maharam.

The artists commissioned to create five site-specific works for Frieze London are: Thomas Bayrle, Aslı Çavuşoğlu, DIS magazine, Grizedale Arts / Yangjiang Group and Joanna Rajkowska. The Projects programme includes an examination of the use-value of art by Grizedale Arts and Yangjiang Group in the form of a structure that will act as a forum for a number of artists who produce food, chaotic dining events, performances, and talks. In contrast, Joanna Rajkowska’s work will invite contemplation and reflection by transforming an area of Regent’s Park into a field of smoking incense. Aslı Çavuşoğlu’s recreation of a crime drama scene will find unlikely parallels between the production of murder mysteries and decisions made whilst making art. DIS magazine’s unique approach to the production of imagery will be a response to the fair, and a design by Thomas Bayrle will be dramatically woven into the fabric of the fair.

The winner of the Emdash Award 2012 is the Belgian/American artistCécile B. Evans, who is based in Berlin. Evans’ winning proposal takes the form of an audio guide to Frieze London accompanied by a holographic ‘host’. The audio guide will feature a panel of notable non-art experts.

Frieze Talks

Brian O’Doherty, Tino Sehgal, Sturtevant, Lynne Tillman, Marina Warner and John Waters are all part of the line-up of international artists, filmmakers, curators and cultural commentators taking part in Frieze Talks 2012.

Alexander Calder at Helly Nahmad Gallery, Frieze Masters 2012
, Image: Linda Nylind
/ Frieze

Sculpture Park

The Sculpture Park at Frieze London 2012 has been selected by Clare Lilley, Director of Programme at Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Lilley has put together an ambitious selection of works, offering a rare opportunity to see a significant group of public-scale sculpture by internationally recognised artists. The 2012 Sculpture Park is the largest-ever presentation of outdoor sculpture at Frieze London.

Lilley’s selection features work by some of the most acclaimed international sculptors working today, both established and emerging. These include new pieces by Hemali Bhuta, Andreas Lolis, Damián Ortega and Maria Zahle. Other artists participating in the Sculpture Park include: Adip Dutta, Hans Josephsohn, Yayoi Kusama, Liversidge, Michael Landy, Peter Jean-Luc Moulène, David Nash, Simon Periton and Alan Kane, Anri Sala, Thomas Scheibitz and William Turnbull. The Sculpture Park at Frieze London is open free to the public.

Public opening dates and hours:

Thursday 11 October: 12-7pm Friday 12 October: 12-7pm Saturday 13 October: 12-7pm Sunday 14 October 12-6pm

Preview

Wednesday 10 October

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FINANCIAL TIMES LONDON

Last updated: October 10, 2012 6:50 pm

Cool, calm and collectable

The new Frieze Masters fair is a dignified partner for the funkier Frieze London
Picasso’s ‘Buste d’Homme’ (1969) sold for $9.5m

Picasso’s ‘Buste d’Homme’ (1969) sold for $9.5m

It’s still in the honeymoon phase, but the marriage between Frieze Masters and Frieze London looks made in heaven. With an inaugural VIP day praised by critics, collectors and dealers alike, Frieze Masters appears calmer and cooler than its contemporary counterpart, as befits a fair that spans the ages from ancient civilisations to the year 2000. Serene grey walls, avenue-wide aisles, VIP guests dressed to impress rather than kill and the presence of so much history in the aisles give this marquee the air of a pop-up museum. It was a thrill to see, for example, a panel by Venetian Renaissance master Bartolomeo Vivarini hanging just metres from a masterpiece by Pierre Bonnard, a trio of medieval gargoyles or prints by 20th-century US photographer Richard Avedon.

Solo shows were always on the menu for the Spotlight section, and even in the first hours it was proving lucrative as well as educational. New Yorker Franklin Parrasch’s decision to focus on Californian abstractionist John McLaughlin was rewarded by the sales of three paintings at around $38,000 each, and one large black-and-white picture priced at $250,000.

The aura of connoisseurship does not detract from commerce. Major early sales included, at New York’s Acquavella Galleries, Picasso’s “Buste d’Homme” (1969) at $9.5m. Gagosian reported sales of several of its Avedon prints; while London’s Lisson Gallery happily exchanged a mixed-media work by British conceptualist John Latham for £150,000.

Perhaps the biggest risk-takers here were the galleries that specialise in Old Masters and antiquities. Off to a “great start”, London’s Sam Fogg, who specialises in medieval and early Renaissance art, sold five works in the first three hours, including two stone sculptures of heads, a St Michael from 14th-century France and a 16th-century head of Christ, for £50,000 each. “We’ve been selling to existing clients, contemporary collectors and contemporary artists,” enthused Fogg, adding that the fair was “very well organised and beautifully arranged”.

Also satisfied were the Salomon Lilian gallery from Amsterdam, which specialises in Dutch and Flemish Old Masters. Here, sales included two diminutive oils, one by David Teniers the Younger (1610-1690), “Old Man Reading” (£250,000), the other a panel by Frans Francken the Younger entitled “Death and the Miser” (£250,000). According to Loureen Lilian, the wife of the gallerist, “We are seeing collectors of contemporary and modern art viewing the Old Masters with real interest.”

Echoing this, London-based dealer Jean-Luc Baroni observed that many contemporary collectors are beginning to “want something more tangible”. A Klimt to go with your Koons, madam?

The following morning, Frieze London (formerly Frieze Art Fair) opened to sparkling sunshine and a funkier mood. One of the non-selling Frieze Projects commissioned by curator Sarah McCrory, German artist Thomas Bayrle’s mesmeric, Pop-style patterns turned the entrance corridor into a space for merriment – or migraine, depending on your state of mind.

Inside, healthy sales suggested that high spirits would prevail. Snapped up within the first 10 minutes was the spectacular sculpture “White Snow Head” (2012) by Californian star Paul McCarthy. Priced at $1.3m, the girl’s shell-pink visage, dripping with McCarthy’s signature goo, came straight from the artist’s studio to the stand of international dealers Hauser & Wirth. Other important transactions included a new silver-on-black scalpel painting by Damien Hirst, “Destruction Dreamscape” (2012), which departed White Cube’s space with an asking price of £0.5m.

On the stand of London gallery Victoria Miro, works by Grayson Perry, Peter Doig, Maria Nepomuceno and Chris Ofili grabbed the eye with their glorious interplay of tropical hues. Bestseller here was one of the signature painterly webs – this time in hot pink and yellow – by Japanese grande dame Yayoi Kusama. Made this year and entitled “Universe RYPK”, it was priced at $0.5m.

The effort by Frieze organisers to reach out to emerging artists, and spaces with curatorial projects and softer commercial sections, appears to be reaping rewards. Introduced at Frieze New York earlier this year, the new Focus section is devoted to galleries established after 2001. Satisfied participants here included Mihai Pop, of Plan B gallery in Cluj, Romania. Pop put together a display that embraced not only fashionable Romanian painters Adrian Ghenie and Victor Man but also unfamiliar, politically-minded installation artist Rudolf Bone.

“Nobody will buy that,” Pop said cheerfully of “Panspermia” (1984), Bone’s gritty grid of glass planes smashed by a rock. “But it doesn’t matter; sometimes it’s about showing the work.” He could afford to be generous: both Ghenie’s and Man’s canvases had sold in the first few hours for €35,000 each.

First impressions suggest that Frieze London’s famously exuberant appetites – both in terms of the art on display and the aura of its guests – may have been tamed slightly by its more dignified new partner. “It’s slightly less frenzied but that’s a good thing,” observed Victoria Miro, who is showing in both spaces. Her words were echoed by Sarah Goulet, public relations associate at Pace gallery, where a flurry of sales had included “System of Display” ($45,000), a silkscreen work on mirror by rising African-American star Adam Pendleton. “This year Frieze London feels like a reunion of old friends,” Goulet commented. “We are seeing a lot of big American and European collectors who have clearly been to both fairs. It’s a symbiotic relationship.” Long may the honeymoon continue.

Frieze London and Frieze Masters both run to Sunday, www.frieze.com

This article has been amended to correct the job title of Sarah Goulet, who is public relations associate at Pace

Posted October 12th by in Art

Jim Lambie ‘Untitled’ (2012) at Sadie Coles HQ at Frieze London 2012. photograph by Linda Nylind

Paul McCarthy At Frieze

Posted October 12th by in Art

Paul McCarthy’s White Snow Head at Hauser & Wirth at Frieze Art Fair, London 2012. Sold for 1.3 million.

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Cutting-Edge Frieze Art Fair Embraces the Past—With Caution

[image] Entwistle Gallery

$305,000 | A Kota guardian figure, used for the protection of ancestral relics, from Gabon and offered by London gallery Entwistle.

Since its founding in 2003, Frieze Art Fair has competed with older fairs like Art Basel by successfully establishing itself as a London venue solely for contemporary artists whose works are often finished just days before the fair.

London’s Frieze Art Fair opens this week to mix the masters with the unknowns. Mary M. Lane will be there, and has a preview of the what to expect on Lunch Break. Photo: Getty Images.

The fair’s success led to New York’s first Frieze, a large-scale event in May. But in London, the 10th Frieze will change the recipe: While 175 exhibitors show fresh works, 101 galleries will sell art created before 2000 at the newly christened Frieze Masters.

Photos: Highlights from the Frieze Art Fair

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© 2012 Estate of Pablo Picasso/Artists Rights Society (ARS)

Pablo Picasso, “Buste d’Homme,” 1969

A number of established galleries will visit Frieze for the first time, many offering works by older household names that may be less risky as investments.

“Nothing’s going to happen over the next five years that will change Picasso’s place in art history. That’s not guaranteed with a lot of newer artists,” said Nicholas Acquavella, director of New York’s Acquavella Gallery, which represents only four living artists.

Acquavella is bringing over 25 mostly 20th-century works, the same number it takes to Art Basel and Art Basel Miami, the gallery’s most important fairs. They include Picasso’s 1969 oil “Bust of a Man,” to be priced from $8 million to $10 million, an 1895 Degas pastel for at least $5 million and a 1978 oil, for $2.5 million, by Pop-Art pioneer James Rosenquist.

The art market has largely avoided the recession plaguing other European sectors, but second-tier works are facing challenges on both the primary and secondary markets as moguls snatch up masterpieces while penny pinchers opt for less expensive art.

“It’s like fashion: The top end like Louis Vuitton and Prada are doing well and the high street has accessible prices. It’s the ones in-between who suffer,” says John Rocha, a fashion designer who has attended Frieze for eight years and bought works there.

Frieze doesn’t release a full list of sales, but prices paid last year—when 60,000 people visited the fair—varied wildly. Modestly priced pieces sold for as little as $80, while “Strip (CR921-1),” a new Gerhard Richter painting, sold for $2.4 million.

Frieze’s main challenge now will be preventing Frieze Masters from eclipsing the edgy reputation of its contemporary counterpart. “It wouldn’t become as big as Frieze London,” at future Friezes, said Frieze Masters director Victoria Siddall.

New York’s David Zwirner has brought his eponymous gallery to Frieze since the fair’s debut and considers it Europe’s most important fair after Basel. Though Mr. Zwirner sold a $1.35 million painting by the German surrealist-influenced Neo Rauch last year, he predicts Frieze Masters will up the ante on prices. “Frieze has always had a little bit of a problem when it came to a higher price point,” compared with Basel, said Mr. Zwirner; he’ll show at both Frieze London and Masters.

Zwirner is one of several blue-chip galleries including Pace and Michael Werner to open spaces in London this autumn as the city, already known as a hub for older art, also takes advantage of its geography (a somewhat shorter trip than to New York) to attract Asian buyers.

The Masters fair has also caught the attention of Sotheby’s, which posted a 16.7% drop in auction sales the first half of 2012 compared with the year-earlier period. The auction house has timed its showing of a drawing by Raphael, to be sold in December, so that collectors coming to see Frieze Masters will drop by to see it. The drawing of an unidentified apostle, estimated between $16 million and $24 million, was drawn circa 1519 for Raphael’s last, nearly completed painting, “The Transfiguration.”

Crossover collecting, where buyers focus on art from different periods, is a slowly growing trend, dealers say. This year, 30% of buyers at Sotheby’s Old Master drawings sales had also bought in their contemporary sales, up from 7% in 2007.

“Drawings can often be read more easily by a contemporary eye. They’re immediate and spontaneous,” said Cristiana Romalli, senior director for Old Master drawings at Sotheby’s, adding that many collectors are more attracted to works without “details that pertain to a specific period.”

New York financier Leon Black, owner of the nearly $120 million pastel “The Scream,” paid Christie’s $47.6 million three years ago for a Raphael chalk drawing, a record auction price for a work on paper at the time.

Frieze Masters dealers are also hoping to harness the fair’s reputation as a contemporary art haven by bringing works with abstract themes.

“Longevity and angst were ideas that artists were also struggling with hundreds of years ago, even if they weren’t getting frequent commissions to paint them,” says David Koetser, whose Zurich-based gallery will be bringing around 22 paintings priced from $50,000 to $4 million. Mr. Koetser will hang four of them, including a still life circa 1630 by Margarete de Heer, in clear suspended cabinets so visitors can walk around them—much like the way one would display contemporary works. The four-day Frieze begins Thursday.

The art fair also will host Frieze Frame, a section for 22 galleries under six years old that hold solo shows in subsidized stands.

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NYTIMES T magazine

Loud and In Tents | Frieze London

  • A collage by the artist Lygia Clark at Alison Jacques Gallery.

In its 10th year, London’s Frieze Art Fair is bigger and more extravagant than ever, with 175 of the world’s leading galleries, and some of London’s hippest restaurants like Hix and Rochelle Canteen, packed under one Carmody Groarke-designed tent. At the entrance visitors are clocked in the face by “Sloping Loafers,” a long corridor feeding into the fair and carpeted with a loud print of overlapping green, yellow and red loafer shoes, a collaboration between the Frieze Foundation, the textile company Maharam and the German artist Tomas Bayrle. Inside, the usual power brokers, like Gagosian and Victoria Miro Gallery, hog the prime real estate, showcasing a giant carbuncular sculpture by Franz West and Grayson Perry’s brilliantly colored and intricate tapestry work, respectively. But not to be overshadowed were smaller installations at Herald Street Gallery that included a sketch by Pablo Brownstein of London’s Liberty Department store being demolished or the Alison Jacques Gallery, where Lygia Clark’s relatively diminutive black and white collage works were on view. A sign of the economic times? On the whole, there were few showoff behemoth installations in favor of paintings, prints and sculptures on a more domestic scale.

Many visitors took advantage of the mild weather and milled around Regent’s Park where the Frieze is held, taking in the beautiful flower gardens and turning leaves, but also the scattering of sculptures like the giant spotted, dragon-necked flower by (surprise, surprise) Yayoi Kusama and Anri Sala‘s tall, warped “Clocked Perspective.” A 10-minute walk to the opposite end of the park revealed a second enormous tent (this one designed by the architect Annabelle Selldorf), dedicated to Frieze Masters, a new fair for art created before the year 2000. The masters fair aims to send a jolt into the market for work that wasn’t born yesterday. But admittedly it was a bit of struggle to leave the Frieze tent, buzzing as it was with exciting new artworks, cultivated eccentrics and unwashed asymmetrical hair sculptures, and move into a different tented world populated by Picasso prints and Andy Warhol drawings. Also in the jumble at Frieze Masters were exquisite Persian rugs, Roman statuary from the first and second centuries, and, my favorite, Giovanni Stanchi’s “An Allegory of the Four Seasons” — anthropomorphic portraits composed from painted flowers, fruits and vegetables.

Two off-site exhibitions not far from the Frieze tents are definitely worth a peek. Toby Ziegler’s “The Cripples,” concealed 14-floors below street level in an underground parking lot, is dazzling. Five large sculptures make reference to a work of the same name by the Flemish painter Pieter Bruegel and six enormous light boxes featuring thickets of horse legs glow and dim in the large concrete room (3-9 Old Burlington Street; through Oct. 20). And down the road at the Marlborough Contemporary, a new offshoot of Marlborough Fine Art, is Angela Ferreira’s exhibition “Stone Free”: sketches, photographs and installations connecting the Cullinan Diamond Mine in South Africa with Chislehurst Caves in South East London, ground zero of ’60s counterculture. (The title of the show comes from song by Jimi Hendrix, who performed there.)

The after-party, tonight at the Scotch, is a joint production with The Gentlewoman Magazine. Aside from a V.I.P. Frieze pass, it’s the hottest ticket in town.

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FINANCIAL TIMES LONDON

October 12, 2012 8:44 pm

The Art Market: Spoilt for choice

Fairs are multiplying madly. Is all this sustainable, and isn’t it leading to over-production?
Portrait of James Lord by Alberto Giacometti

‘Portrait of James Lord’, 1964, by Alberto Giacometti

The biggest buzz surrounded Frieze Masters, the latest addition to the Frieze stable, which opened on Tuesday in a separate tent near London Zoo, offering art from antiquity to the end of the 20th century. In a spacious tent elegantly fitted out by starchitect-to-the-artworld Annabelle Selldorf (three shades of grey were the only colours allowed, triggering many “50 shades” jokes), traditional dealers offered Renaissance gold ground paintings, Dutch still lifes, tribal art, Egyptian antiquities, modern art – and even contemporary art, as long as it was made before 2000.

The fair garnered praise for the high quality of the works on show and the cool minimalist presentation. Among the standouts was the stunning show of Calder and Miró at Helly Nahmad: one giant Calder, “Triumphant Red” (1959-63), bought just this June at Christie’s London for £6.2m (about $9.6m) and now being offered for an equally triumphant $20m, with a Miró painting (“The sorrowful march guided by the flamboyant bird of the desert”, 1968) at the same amount. An unconfirmed rumour held that both had gone to a Russian buyer.

Thomas Gibson was serenely showing a mainly not-for-sale group of Giacometti sculptures, drawings and paintings; McCaffrey Fine Art fielded a solo show of William Scott while Gagosian focused on Richard Avedon portraits. Sam Fogg showed a remarkable group of three 13th-century church gargoyles, at £2m.As the fair started sales were uneven, with modern art doing better than the Old Masters; but as adviser Lisa Schiff said, after looking at a 17th-century Dutch painting with a client, “These are not purchases you hurry into, you need to do some research before you pull the trigger.” This is exactly the sort of crossover collecting the Frieze organisers were hoping for when they created the new fair.

Frieze Masters did not steal the thunder of the contemporary Frieze London (now open to works made after 2000), which attracted the usual hordes of VIPs on Wednesday. This fair has shed its gritty, edgy image to become far more generic, and some collectors said it no longer contained any surprises. Its younger gallery “Frame” and “Focus” sections may be a little weakened by Masters’ “Spotlight” section, which slightly overlaps. We shall see how that plays out next year.

Nicholas Hlobo sculpture

Nicholas Hlobo sculpture

Sales at Frieze London started off sedately, but Stevenson from South Africa was happy to see a Nicholas Hlobo sculpture bought for Tate by the Outset fund for €50,000; Cheim and Read sold a Louise Bourgeois sculpture for $1.5m, while Sprueth Magers found a European buyer for Condo’s “Red Profile” (2012) at $325,000.

. . .

In the midst of all this, the price data site Artprice reported that the market for contemporary art actually shrank 6 per cent between July 2011 and July 2012. The market is worth $1.1bn, it estimates, based on auction results. Asia, which includes mainland China and Hong Kong, Malaysia, Indonesia, Korea, Japan and Taiwan, represent a chunky 43 per cent of the market. The Chinese figures are to be treated with caution; Artprice maintains they are carefully checked, although I don’t quite see how. Basquiat was the highest grossing artist with $103m in sales, followed by Zeng Fanzhi and Christopher Wool.

. . .

In another counter-intuitive turn, when Phillips de Pury opened the auction week on Wednesday night with a £12.2m sale, it fell well short of the £15m-£22m expectations and saw a bleak 34 per cent bought in. The top lot was a Basquiat at £2.6m. While the auction house does not confirm this, it will be moving into huge new quarters next year at 30 Berkeley Square, just acquired for over £100m by its owners, Russian luxury goods company Mercury.

. . .

13th-century gargoyle

13th-century gargoyle

On the subject of crossover collecting, the hedge-fund mogul Christian Levett has joined forces with gallery owner Toby Clarke of Vigo, launching the new venture – which retains the name of Clarke’s old gallery – in the former Blain|Southern space in Dering Street this week. Levett collects in a number of areas, notably antiquities and modern art, as well as buying contemporary art. In 2011 he opened the Musée d’Art Classique de Mougins in the south of France, which displays Roman, Greek and Egyptian sculpture, vases, coins and jewellery as well as ancient arms and armour. He also collects living artists represented by Vigo such as Leonardo Drew, Biggs and Collings, Kadar Brock and Boyle Family, from whom he has commissioned a world series installation. “It is exciting to partner with a collector with such varied tastes, who is open to different forms of art,” said Clarke.

. . .

Many visitors to Frieze, almost overwhelmed with events, were questioning whether the whole art fair phenomenon is spiralling out of control. Hardly a week goes by without another art fair being created: the latest is Art Istanbul (September 2013), launched by Sandy Angus, one of the founders of the Hong Kong fair, now part of the Art Basel group. Is all this sustainable, and isn’t it leading to over-production? At a debate entitled “Does Size Matter?” this week a representative of Gagosian gallery affirmed, straight-faced, that “there is no over-production” – and went unchallenged. Considering that White Cube is showing Kiefer in Hong Kong, and both Gagosian and Ropac are launching their new spaces in Paris with Kiefer, it seems difficult not to believe that many artists might be overstretching their creative capacities.

Georgina Adam is editor-at-large of The Art Newspaper

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Sam Fogg, London Frieze Masters 2012 Photograph by Linda Nylind Courtesy of Linda Nylind/ Frieze

So, Frieze is over. Or, rather Frieze London and Frieze Masters are over. And thus the most self-aware art festival closes its 2012 London extravaganza. It was quite a year, starting with the usual Nathan Barley moments: when I went to pick up my press pass, the queue at the press office was longer than the queue to get in the fair. Surely Andy Warhol would have enjoyed it: in 2012, everyone will be an art critic for fifteen minutes. At first, I was mildly concerned, that this might be the year that everyone who claims they’ll never go to Frieze again finally decides not to, but once inside, things were packed to the usual crowd-surfer-only levels.

I’m always suspicious of journalists who turn up with eerily perfect quotes in their articles, but when I heard someone saying “There’s so much to buy and so little time”

at one of the Frieze Masters‘ stalls, I suddenly had a tiny bit more faith in journalism as a profession. In many ways, the sheer incongruity and fundamental appropriateness of “so much to buy so little time” is what drives Frieze, both economically, of course, and creatively. When this review opened I said Frieze was self aware but that’s probably why Frieze inevitably ends up being more enjoyable than other art fairs, it knows what it’s there to do (i.e. sell art), but somehow avoids making that fact obvious. Sweaty dealers fretting over sales may make the art market what it is, but who wants to see that? Surely, Frieze reasons, a live, three-act murder mystery by Asli Cavusoglu is more fun to watch. Damn right it is.

What were the highlights? Frieze Masters certainly rates, not least for the sensitivity to

presentation of the participating galleries. The Frieze Masters‘ stalls were rather more like little art kiosks which you could duck into to escape both the pummel of London rain and the frenetic atmosphere of the contemporary fair across the park. A number of galleries chose to make their stalls essentially “mini-exhibitions” which focussed on the work of a single artist. Hauser and Wirth showed off a dazzling array of Eva Hesse drawings, Pace Gallery had a row of transcendent Kurt Schwitters collages, Wienerroiter-Kohlbacher brought out the Egon Schieles. It was almost too much to take in, but the difference with Frieze Masters was that there was enough space and time to return and look again rather than being pumped along by human peristalsis as in Frieze London, and you could buy a gargoyle if you had the extra cash.

Frieze-London-2012-Phototgraph-by-Linda-Nylind-Courtesy-of-Linda-Nylind-Frieze

Frieze London 2012 Phototgraph by Linda Nylind Courtesy of Linda Nylind/ Frieze

Not that there’s anything wrong with being pumped along by human peristalsis, it’s just about context. Returning to Frieze London, I did my damnedest to focus, especially on the Frieze Projects which always sound so great conceptually, but somehow underwhelm. I’m generally sorry to say it was another one of those years. The only one of the Frieze Projects which really managed the kind of otherworldliness I was hoping for was the project by Grizedale Arts and Yangjiang Group titled Colosseum of the Consumed, a modest wooden “colosseum” in which various artists and performers created works tailored to the surroundings and which was dotted with food stalls from the kind of organic and sustainable range of producers art-beings frequent — I must say, the kimchi on offer was a work of art in its own right. I only caught one of the performances, Bedwyr Williams’ autopsy of a humanoid curator fashioned from cake. His performance had the verve and poetry-

comedy linguistic flair he’s known for, and managed to rhyme “sambuca” and “puker” to a standard of which any MC would have been proud.

Joanna Rajkowska’s Frieze Projects piece was also worthy of note. You’ve heard of “sound pieces” no doubt, not least after Susan Phillipsz Turner Prize victory in 2011, but Rojkowska ventured into the lesser plumbed world of the “smell piece”. The idea was that Rajkowska would have incense burning near the entrance of the fair and this would have a transformative effect for all the fair goers and G4S security folks, perhaps turning the queue experience into a form of transcendental meditation. Rain, unfortunately, made it impossible to fully engage with the work, but the dry moments, were more interesting for how routinely life went on, incense or no incense. Perhaps we’re all so accustomed to bizarre odors in public, not least parks, that we’re rather

more likely to be reminded of Camden High Street than Xanadu when the incense does its thing.

For me, Frieze ended after a magisterial talk titled, On Stupidity, by John Waters in which the self-styled Pope of Trash explored the value of stupidity and the limits of intellect. The audience had dozens of questions, “Is art stupid?” “Is sex stupid?”, “Is the internet stupid” — no one was dumb enough to ask if talks on stupidity were stupid — Waters’ responses were all far too witty to condense (and many, this being Waters, were gloriously unprintable) but broadly the answers seemed to be yes, and long may such stupidities continue. Convert it to Latin and you’ve got a creditable motto for Frieze.

friezelondon.com

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Servet Kocyigit, Everything (2012)

Mark Handforth, Colour Phone (2012)

Geoffrey Farmer, Casey Kaplan

Yayoi Kusama, Flowers That Bloom Tomorrow (2011)

Michael Landy, Self-Portrait as Rubbish Bin (2012)

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The Telegraph London

Frieze Art Fair 2012: busier and buzzier than ever before

Ten years since its beginning, the Frieze Art Fair is still bringing all the glamour of the art world to the capital, writes Florence Waters.

Arthur Kennedy 2012: A work by Caragh Thuring, who had a piece purchased by the Tate at Frieze Art Fair

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Arthur Kennedy 2012: A work by Caragh Thuring, who had a piece purchased by the Tate at Frieze Art Fair Photo: Tate Photography. Courtesy of Thomas Dane Gallery, London

Ten years on and Frieze Art Fair, London’s international contemporary art bazaar, is just one organ in what is now a city-wide festivity, an excuse for galleries to flaunt their best new art in a heady long weekend that brings collectors, dealers, scholars and all the glamour of the art world to the capital.

One of the most exciting things to observe on VIP day at Frieze, apart from the intoxicatingly light-handed exchange of cash and Tatinger, is the pace of the changing mood. One always notices the changes, and this year there are many. In typical austerity-defying fashion one New York gallerist told me yesterday that the first day this year was “busier and buzzier” than she had ever seen it, another told me that there was quite a different crowd than normal – and an unusual number of new collectors.

The biggest change is in the presentation of the wares themselves. On the whole, galleries have opted for restrained curation and honestly crafted pieces over big statements. Bombast is out, and art on a domestic, thoughtful scale is in. Precious Objets d’Arts with a contemporary twist were the order of the day; Matthias Merkel Hess’ glazed porcelain oil cans (‘Bucketry’, 2011-12) were selling like hot cakes at ACME; the French artist Jean Luc Moulène’s vase-sized gorgeous ornamentally entwined glass sculpture that requires three highly-skilled glassblowers in a costly high-risk process, was barely visible for the mob at the Thomas Dane Gallery. There was plenty of tapestry, crochet, gold, jewelry, a painting simply called ‘Baskets’, 2012, by Sigrid Holm Wood, painted in natural dyes all naturally sourced by the artist in Chinese healing plants.

Perhaps this conservative shift is in part due to the advent of the first Frieze Masters, which takes place across Regents’ Park this week (Ed Miliband has been among high profile guests), and the rising popularity of rival design fair, the Pavilion of Art and Design. This week sees the opening of more heavyweight satellite events than ever too, among them a major exhibition of new works by the master of refashioned formalism Anish Kapoor, at Lisson Gallery, and the crowd-pleasing “outsider” art wagon Museum of Everything which has landed at Frieze Masters.

But shifting interests reflect the times too. Last year, one of the artworks getting the most attention was a private “superyacht” (it cost €65m to buy as boat, and €75m to buy as an artwork, authenticated by the German artist Christian Jankowski). This year, in the same spot was erected one of the more memorable of this year’s “Frieze Projects”, experimental audience-participatory artworks designed to punctuate and enliven the monotony of the aisles. The Chinese artist collective, the Yangjiang Group, have teamed up with Cambrian organization Grizedale Arts to erect ‘Coliseum of the Consumed’, a plywood scaffold for food stalls and performances, which operates on the simple basis that “art should be useful”. I spoke to one of the stall owners who was selling juniper juice in plastic baggies and had raised £40 for Youth Group UK doing so.

For all the superficial changes, a decade after it first opened remarkably little has changed at Frieze, given how much has changed outside the marquee walls. Why, for instance, has it taken ten years for the first African art gallery to land at London’s international art fair?

Stevenson Gallery from Cape Town and Johannesburg had many reasons to celebrate yesterday. Not only were they a welcome addition to the contemporary art market bazaar, but the Tate had chosen to buy one of their works too. ‘Balindile I’ by young rising South African star Nicholas Hlobo is a long phallic hosepipe sculpted out of inner tubes which grow into a rubbery plant slumping like an undignified dead animal and sewn together with ribbon. It was among four new acquisitions the Tate made at Frieze yesterday, including a wonderful Seventies canvas by the underrated American painter Jack Whitten who was making sweeping cloth abstracts long before Gerhard Richter.

In terms of new artists, it’s always interesting to see who has been put out by dealers – and who is selling. Thomas Dane had almost completely sold a whole wall of nine works by British painter Caragh Thuring, one of them to Tate. Reminiscent of Hockney’s early stuff, she interprets environments such as a New York subway station by isolating symbols and patterns in architecture and arranging their forms onto linen in a simplified and flat manner that play tricks with our memory of a place. Overall, a Frieze year to enjoy.

Frieze Art Fair runs until Sunday in Regents Park

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Untitled, 2012 by Maria Nepomuceno at Victoria Miro

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Frieze Week, various venues, round-up

As Frieze London draws to a close, Alastair Sooke gives his verdict on the exhibitions run in tandem with the contemporary art fair, including the National Gallery’s Richard Hamilton: The Late Works.

Richard Hamilton's painting Lobby, from the Richard Hamilton - The Late Works exhibition at the National Gallery.

Richard Hamilton’s painting Lobby, from the Richard Hamilton – The Late Works exhibition at the National Gallery.  Photo: EPA/ANDY RAIN

An enormous flower is sprouting from the lawns of Regent’s Park. Crawling with black polka dots, it writhes and rears its head like something from The Day of the Triffids. Of course, it isn’t a real flower, but a sculpture by the Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama greeting visitors to Frieze London, the annual contemporary art fair that ended on Sunday.

Alluring yet dangerous-looking like a Venus flytrap, Flowers That Bloom Tomorrow (2011) made an appropriate gatekeeper for the fair. Inside the hothouse of the nearby marquee, the rarefied ecosystem of the art market offered up artists like exotic plants. Dealers and their clients were like Dutchmen in the grip of tulip mania. Frieze is by turns exhilarating and maddening. Nowhere else is the cross-fertilisation of art and money so flagrant.

Still, a welcome side effect of the fair’s success is that London’s galleries mount exciting exhibitions to coincide with it. One such show is Richard Hamilton: The Late Works at the National Gallery (until Jan 13; four stars). Having accepted the invitation to exhibit there in 2010, Hamilton, who pioneered British Pop art in the Fifties, worked on the show until his death last year aged 89.

The exhibition contains almost 20 riddling paintings, full of allusions to art history as well as the artist’s earlier work. Many of the pictures were designed using a computer, and their precise style, presenting nude women inside modernist interiors, is part Old Master, part Ikea catalogue.

The contemporary world looms large: we see vacuum cleaners — an obsession of Hamilton’s since his Pop collages of the Fifties — as well as mirrors and modish furniture. There are references to Hamilton’s hero, Marcel Duchamp.

But there is an awareness of older traditions, too. In several pictures, Hamilton draws upon religious painting. In An annunciation (b) v2 (2005), a curly-haired, naked Virgin receives divine news by telephone. Hamilton, who has a reputation as a cerebral artist, was no stranger to sensuousness and jokes.

Lobby (1985-7) replicates a Seventies postcard of the foyer of an upscale hotel in Berlin. It is a large, perplexing oil painting, in which mirrored pillars complicate the convincing representation of space. In the distance, we glimpse an expressionless attendant, but otherwise the scene is empty, anodyne, absurd. An Escher-like staircase leads nowhere. We can practically hear the “plink” of an elevator, and the dirge of piped music.

Hamilton called Lobby a “metaphysical” painting, since it presents “a kind of purgatory”. It offers a chilling vision of an excessively corporate world in thrall to shiny surfaces. Everything feels numb and hollow.

Hamilton once told me that for most of his life he felt “rejected”. I suspect he may be the most underrated British artist of the 20th century — the opposite of, say, his near-contemporary David Hockney. In recent years, Hockney has won acclaim for doodling on an iPad, whereas Hamilton, who was always at the forefront of using technology to make art, garnered none. In advance of a retrospective opening at Tate Modern next year, the National Gallery’s exhibition should start securing Hamilton the recognition he deserves. Better late than never.

There is one reason to see Mel Bochner: If the Colour Changes at the Whitechapel Gallery, and that is the American artist’s so-called “thesaurus paintings” (until Dec 30; three stars). In this recent series, Bochner, who is often described as one of the founding fathers of conceptual art, paints synonyms of words in bright capital letters.

In Sputter (2010), the title sparks a list of 20 related words (“stutter”, “stammer”, “sniffle”, “snort”, “yap”, “yelp”, and so on), culminating in the brutal monosyllable: “croak”. Here is a Beckett-like prose poem condensing existence to its grim essentials. But it is funny as well as bleak: the tasteless, Sesame Street colours clash with the pessimistic message that life is a struggle before we kick the bucket.

Master of the Universe (2010), which ends with the sting in the tail of “Gotcha by the Balls”, is a slangy satire upon Western capitalism. It is hard to resist paintings with such sly wit. In comparison, Bochner’s earlier work, some of which is on show at the Whitechapel, feels boring.

Franz West: Man with a Ball, an exhibition at the Gagosian Gallery of work by the influential Austrian artist who died this summer, is full of infectious, rough-hewn energy (until Nov 10; four stars). Intestinal forms in baby pinks and blues wriggle and quiver like serpents hypnotised by a snake charmer — though arguably the fibreglass supports detract from the effect.

Amorphous lumps of papier-mâché and polystyrene splashed with bright acrylic paint levitate on slender steel sticks. (In some cases, West’s boulder-like forms balance on cheap ironing boards.)

Everywhere, there is a sense that the work — a jab in the eye of classical sculpture — is still in flux. This must be the most exuberant, freewheeling show in town.

Valkyrie Crown, a patchwork fabric structure by the Portuguese artist Joana Vasconcelos currently nesting like an alien life form in the upper gallery of Haunch of Venison, has a festive quality, like a massive piñata (until Nov 17; three stars). With its sprawling tendrils and tentacles, it is pleasingly unruly.

The same can be said for the humanoid sculptures of the Leeds-born, LA-based artist Thomas Houseago at Hauser & Wirth (until Oct 27; four stars). With their gloopy surfaces smeared onto jerry-built supports, these figures have an awkward, lumbering quality that imbues them with personality.

By contrast, Rothko/Sugimoto at the new Pace London gallery feels insufficiently anarchic (until Nov 17; three stars). Glowering late paintings by the Abstract-Expressionist Mark Rothko are paired with silvery-grey seascapes by the Japanese photographer Hiroshi Sugimoto. The juxtaposition is superficially successful, in that the sea-versus-sky divisions of Sugimoto’s images echo the bands of Rothko’s canvases, which are dominated by dark colours.

But Rothko’s expressive, stormy brushwork feels much more exciting than Sugimoto’s numb, bleached-out vistas, which are the visual equivalent of mood suppressants. Still, sometimes a dose of tranquillity amid the turmoil of Frieze is just what the doctor ordered.

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The Telegraph London

The best anti-Frieze in London

Colin Gleadell looks six of the best exhibitions with shows opening that aren’t part of Frieze art fair.

Issues of womanhood: 'Full Steam Ahead’ by Joana Vasconcelos is on sale at the Haunch of Venison gallery<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
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Issues of womanhood: ‘Full Steam Ahead’ by Joana Vasconcelos is on sale at the Haunch of Venison gallery  Photo: CUnidade Infinita Projectos

Not all of London’s top galleries are taking part in this week’s art fair jamboree in the capital. For a variety of reasons, some are staying at home and mounting significant exhibitions. Here are six of the best that open to the public tomorrow, all within walking distance in Mayfair.

Frieze won’t accept the Haunch of Venison gallery because it is owned by an auctioneer, Christie’s, but the gallery will continue to apply on the basis of its excellent exhibition programme. In its New Bond Street galleries is a solo show for Joana Vasconcelos, who will represent Portugal at the next Venice Biennale and whose recent exhibition at the Château de Versailles was a sensation. A series of eye-catching sculptural installations that address issues of womanhood and nationality are composed of everyday objects such as tiles and textiles. Full Steam Ahead is a 2m construction in the shape of a water lily made from steam irons in which the petals open and close, emitting steam. Prices range from £8,000 to £400,000.

A surprising absence from the Frieze Masters line-up is Richard Green, with his enviable range of art from Old Masters to modern. But with his new gallery next to Sotheby’s proving a big draw, Green opted to play away last month at the Paris Biennale des Antiquaires and was rewarded with a handful of million-pound sales. For Frieze week, he has dipped into his collection for a broad survey of Britain’s leading 20th-century modernists, Henry Moore, Ben Nicholson and Barbara Hepworth. Shelter drawings, family groups and reclining figures by Moore are juxtaposed with abstracts and carved reliefs by Nicholson, and bronze, metal and carved alabaster sculptures by Hepworth. Only half the works on view are offered for sale, priced from £125,000 to £2 million.

The last time Berkeley Street dealer Simon Lee showed at Frieze, he spent too much time in a taxi between the fair and his gallery trying to service clients at each. So this year, in addition to a gallery exhibition of Picasso-inspired paintings by Austrian artist, Heimo Zobernig, he has taken over a floor in a nearby underground car park for an installation by widely collected young British artist Toby Ziegler. In a nod to the aspirations of Frieze Masters to bridge the old and the new, Ziegler has rendered the subjects in Brueghel the Elder’s painting The Cripples as giant aluminium, three-dimensional, cubistic figures, looped around supporting timber frames instead of crutches. Prices for Ziegler’s Cripples are up to £50,000 each.

A star in the firmament of late-19th-century artists sometimes dubbed as British Impressionists, Sir George Clausen’s highest prices (around £500,000) have been for his 1880s scenes of rural peasant life, flecked in sunlight. For Frieze week, the Fine Art Society in New Bond Street, another surprising absentee from Frieze Masters, is presenting a Clausen retrospective in which his later landscape and still-life paintings are reassessed. Priced from £20,000 to £100,000.

Blain/Southern is the latest incarnation of a partnership that began 10 years ago, was bought by Christie’s, but has been independent for the past two years, not quite long enough to apply for the main Frieze fair. In that time, founders, Harry Blain and Graham Southern, have been rebuilding their stable of artists, and launch their new gallery in Hanover Square with a show for artist/punksters Tim Noble and Sue Webster, who last showed in London with the Gagosian Gallery five years ago. Entitled Nihilistic Optimistic, the exhibition comprises five new self‑portrait shadow sculptures composed from arranged debris and projection lamps, together with a splendidly teetering, unlit tower of junk, My Beautiful Mistake, priced between £60,000 and £300,000. The pair has also released a limited edition vinyl record priced at £200. Don’t buy it for the music, though, because there isn’t any.

Shizaru is a new gallery in Mount Street founded by Benjamin Khalili, the son of the Islamic art collector Nasser Khalili. So far, it has been feeling its way into the contemporary art market, but makes a major breakthrough this week with a vast exhibition curated by the renowned American collector Beth Rudin DeWoody, who sits on the board of the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York.

Bad for You is what it says it is – an exhibition about the relationship between art and human vices through the eyes of 67 American artists, from Andy Warhol to in-vogue photographer of uninhibited youth, Ryan McGinley. Prices range from £1,200 to £625,000.

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Frieze Masters art fair reflects fashion for all things old

Frieze – a byword for modern and cool – is to be joined this year by a fair selling Old Masters and ancient artefacts

Frieze art fair

Last year’s Frieze art fair in Regent’s Park, central London. This year it will be joined by Frieze masters. Photograph: Sarah Lee for the Guardian

Since 2003, the autumnal trees and clipped grass of Regent’s Park in London have been the scene of the annual Frieze art fair, the most important contemporary art fair in Britain and temple to all that is hyper-modern and cool. But this year it will be joined by something quite different – a new fair, Frieze Masters, that will be selling everything from ancient Egyptian statuettes and Old Masters to artwork made up to the year 2000.

If the emergence of Frieze art fair heralded, or confirmed, the hegemony of the modern in fashionable taste, then now we are being told something different: old is cool again.

The “Frieze effect”, as it is called (though you might argue about how far it is symptom, or cause, of the fashion for the modern) has not simply been about the predilections of the oligarchs, hedge-funders and Qatari magnates who have been hoovering up contemporary art. The taste for the new also filtered into style magazines, TV design shows, the way we furnish our homes. “It was the Wallpaper* magazine generation and the Blair generation,” says the Frieze co-founder Matthew Slotover, who argues that fashion in art is inextricably connected to trends in wider taste.

“There was a feeling in the late 1990s and early 2000s that we need to be younger, more international looking. In the 1980s and early 90s, people aspired to houses that looked like mini-stately homes, with swagged curtains and antiques.” But, he adds: “Now both that 1980s look and the austere, minimalist look seem a little backward-looking.”

The idea that the arch-marketeers of the brand-new should now be urging the monied to buy medieval stonecarving and Tiepolos may seem a little startling, but Frieze Masters has not emerged from nowhere.

Slotover and his business partner Amanda Sharp, along with the fair director Victoria Siddall, have been impelled by what they are seeing around them: by what artists are saying and doing, by what kind of shows they see curators mounting. The worlds of contemporary and historic art – often institutionally sealed off from each other both in the academic and the commercial worlds – are opening up towards one another.

“It feels like a zeitgeist thing,” said Siddall. She ticked off a list of exhibitions where the old and the new had mingled. At last year’s Venice Biennale, Tintorettos were shown in the official main exhibition, generally regarded as the contemporary artworld’s most important state-of-art-now statement. Works by Poussin were paired with canvases by Cy Twombly, who died last year, for a show at Dulwich Picture Gallery. Ed Ruscha, the hyper-cool, pop-inflected Californian painter, has curated a show from the magnificent collections of the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna; at the same institution Jeff Koons had given a talk about medieval wood-carving.

In the UK, the Turner prizewinner Grayson Perry last year became the first contemporary artist to curate a show at the British Museum. This summer, brand-new works by Chris Ofili and Mark Wallinger were shown in the Sainsbury wing of the National Gallery – a space more accustomed to Leonardos than edgy installation art. The current Bronze exhibition at the Royal Academy in London – with Tony Cragg and Koons shown along with ancient Etruscan sculpture – is yet another example of the tendency.

According to Siddall, “to have all these events more or less at the same time feels like we are being offered a new way of looking at art. It’s something of course that artists have always done – to look at their own work in relation to that of the past – but the rest of us are catching up.”

According to Rupert Thomas, editor of the World of Interiors magazine, which covers art and antique fairs as well as taste in decoration, said: “Non-contemporary art, if you like, is what artists have been buying for years. Jeff Koons has been buying up old work, Corot and the like, for a fraction of the price of what his own work sells for. Frieze is picking up on what its own artists have been doing for a long time. They are brilliant at finding the right current, picking up on what works commercially.”

The message of Frieze Masters is not about a move away from the contemporary, but about seeing it in the light of history; the historic art, meanwhile, is given a cool edge by association with Frieze. It is significant that the exhibitors at Frieze Masters are obliged to show their work against a choice of four backgrounds: white, or three shades of grey. No red damask or swagged curtains allowed.

Xavier Bray, an Old Master curator at the Dulwich Picture Gallery, has just been hanging a show that pairs portrait heads by Lucian Freud and the 16th-century Bolognese artist Annibale Carracci for a new show at the Ordovas gallery. He has practical views on what he hopes Frieze Masters can do: “jumpstarting”, he hopes, the market for Old Masters, and helping draw attention back to the historic work that has recently taken second place to the excitement of the new. “We want to attract the hedgefunders to buy Old Masters and of course, eventually give them to us and regenerate our collections,” he said. People have, he said, “forgotten how to look at Old Masters” – which are seen as “not as edgy, not as exciting” as contemporary work.

While Bray finds himself working with contemporary art, recent years have also seen a burgeoning of contemporary curators appointed to museums with historic collections – the Louvre, the Hermitage and the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Jasper Sharp works at the last, and invited Ruscha to work with the Viennese collection. As with Perry’s exhibition at the British Museum, the exhibition is about an intuitive, non-academic but fiercely intelligent eye revealing art in a way that no academically trained art historian would do. “The Brueghels he hung looked as if they had been painted 10 minutes ago,” Sharp said. “Sure, with some of these projects there’s a little tokenism: it has sometimes felt as though historic collections have needed a little stardust sprinkled over them.” But, he added: “Artists are the most articulate advocates of historical art. They can bring it alive.”

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Frieze art fair – review

As frenetic and irreverent as ever, this year’s Frieze also launched its first ‘historical’ art fair, featuring everything from medieval gargoyles to, er, David Hockney…

miranda sawyer william eggleston

Miranda Sawyer admires a William Eggleston at Frieze Masters: ‘They cost “185 US”, says the gallery owner, which means $185,000.’ Photograph: Katherine Rose for the Observer

I’m standing on a wooden balcony. It forms a square: slightly rickety, not too wide, not too high. Standing here is a bit like hanging in a tree house, except that where the tree should be there’s a space. A space for art to take place.

Here’s some now. Below us, a big man in red shoes, a red hat with floppy ears and a butcher’s apron is performing an autopsy. The corpse lies on a metal trolley. It appears to be naked – you can see the sparse hairs on its chest, its spud-like genitalia – but it’s wearing brown shoes and serious specs.

The man in the apron – artist Bedwyr Williams – addresses the corpse.

“Curator. Cadaver. Cake,” he announces solemnly, and wields his knife.

Williams has a problem with curators and has decided to address it by cutting up a curator cake. He talks as he does so (“They celebrate their eyes with unusual spectacles because their eyes is their business…”), gradually slicing the cake to reveal its brain and other organs. It’s funny, engaging, chaotic. He has a great way with words. And at the end, everyone gets a cup of tea and whichever bit of corpse they want to eat. Tim Marlow, curator and broadcaster, chows down on the penis. It looks tasty.

Tea and cake – whether art cake or just the ordinary kind – is always nice, and a welcome relief within the strange hall-malls of Frieze. It’s not just that looking at art is tiring, but Frieze itself somehow sucks up your energy and replaces it with an anxious jitteriness. Am I missing something? What’s going on there? Should I wait in this corner where an artistic murder mystery appears to be developing or should I try to get into a talk? Even when you slump, on groovy benches covered in laughing cows, you find yourself consulting your map, planning your next foray. Frieze is a fair in all senses: it exists to sell work, but it’s also a collection of entertainments. A festival; like Edinburgh, like Glastonbury.

This year, the 10th Frieze, is accompanied by the now familiar big gallery openings. London’s art orgasms are timed to chime with Frieze. There are great shows at the Serpentine (Thomas Schütte), the South London Gallery (Rashid Johnson), Tates Modern and Britain (William Klein and Daido Moriyama; the Turner prize and pre-Raphaelites), as well as interesting events happening all over the capital. The Rain Room at the Barbican. Lindsay Seers’s installation at the Tin Tabernacle in Kilburn. Sunday Fair, for smaller galleries that can’t afford Frieze’s prices. Arrrggh! Too. Much. Culture.

But my job here is Frieze, and its new companion, Frieze Masters, which promises non-contemporary art displayed in a contemporary manner. Meaning: no stripy wallpaper, no scary doormen and not much context. Instead, the art – from ancient Egyptian sculptures to medieval friezes, from old masters to (cough) ethnic art – is shown Frieze-styley: within white or grey boxes, easily entered, easily left.

It’s an enjoyable show: smaller and easier to negotiate than its big sister. Though it seems weird to see Warhol and Basquiat, Avedon and Hockney among the Rubenses, the Picassos. There’s even a series of Thomas Schütte photographs on display as you walk in. I thought this was the oldies’ section? I ask, and apparently the cut-off point for Frieze Masters is 2000, so Masters is essentially all art except that made in the past 12 years. Everything and everyone, from teenagedom onwards, is a potential master, it seems.

There are odd juxtapositions: one gallery shows Annie Leibovitz photos next to Watteau sketches, which looks… I think the technical word is shite. Better are the galleries that have the courage of their convictions. At Cheim & Read/Victoria Miro there are some gorgeous William Eggleston photographs, previously unprinted, carefully blown up into amazing large-scale pieces. Editions of two, one kept by Eggleston. They cost “185 US”, says the gallery owner, which means $185,000. Cheap when compared to a million-plus Turner.

The Museum of Everything is showing the cute, closed sculptures of William Edmondson, the manual labourer who became the first African-American artist to be given a one-man show at New York’s Moma. Opposite, at Alison Jacques, are some lovely paintings from Dorothea Tanning, who died in January this year at the age of 101. And I’m a fan of the three gargoyles at Sam Fogg, a gallery that specialises in medieval art. Almost all gargoyles were taken down from churches in the 19th century and replaced; these were once part of Notre Dame cathedral in Strasbourg. They’re displayed at an angle so they spring out at you, clawing camply at the air with a single paw apiece. Miaow!

Back in Frieze I wander and wonder. Sadie Coles has an arresting all-star display, including a familiar but still great Sarah Lucas piece called Mumum, which shows stuffed tights, like milky tits, packed together as a hanging chair. Nearby, the Lisson’s stall is equally showy. I like Ryan Gander‘s parade of squashy faux-designer objets. And I especially like the commentary on them from author Ned Beauman, in which he discusses the future of designer accessories: logo-laden pill boxes, overpriced OAP gifts.

I hear Beauman’s opinion courtesy of an audio guide, an artwork from young Belgian artist Cécile B Evans. You are guided to pieces to hear talks by Lionel Blue, Mary Beard, Patrick Moore, Grace Dent. I talk to Evans, who is lovely, and she tells me that she approached around 120 people to take part, and “I’ve never been rejected so many times”. Even luminaries such as Malcolm Gladwell and Adam Curtis demurred because “they didn’t feel qualified, they were scared”. It’s astonishing how intimidating art can be to people. They feel there is a “right” response, a respect that is due, a knowledge that’s needed before any opinion can be given.

Yet art doesn’t have to be anything. It can be a joke, a sentiment, a memory trigger, a cake. The art is often contained in the viewer’s response. It’s hard to free ourselves from the idea that art must be viewed reverently, in quiet contemplation of its beauty. Frieze, with its madding crowds, its fizz and daftness, its clutter, goes some way to liberating us from our fear. But I wish it would do more; let the humanity in, alongside all those paying humans. It has the hordes, why not give them some fun? As well as cake, of course.

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Art

Frieze Art Fair London 2012 report

Painting and mosaic by Julian Opie at the Lisson Gallery stand at Frieze Art Fair 2012

By Emma O’Kelly

Brothel-creeper patterned walls, a lawn breathing incense and a provocative mix of sculptures greet the long queues of visitors to this year’s Frieze Art Fair. ‘This would absolutely never be allowed in a public park in the US,’ says a well-groomed male couple in response to a white bust of a muscley naked lady by Alan Kane and Simon Periton.

Their reaction flies in the face of what Grayson Perry, in conversation with Martin Parr, said at talk sponsored by Italian lifestyle brand Yoox: ‘Shock is the standard response to art now because people want to be titillated. But it’s hard as people are inured to it.’ Tell that to Mitt Romney’s supporters.

But maybe Perry is right. Inside the tent, it seemed there were fewer genitals, less gore and shock horror than in previous years. The fair felt more grown up as it entered its tenth year. Could this be due to the arrival of Frieze Masters, a sister event at the north end of Regent’s Park, which features everything from ancient Mesopotamian treasures, Giacometti and Richard Avedon prints?

Nicholas Logsdail, founder of the Lisson Gallery, which was exhibiting in both shows says: ‘Masters is quieter than I had hoped, but I have seen more serious collectors in here than in the contemporary fair. It’s the first year, so we will see.’

Over at the contemporary tent – a positive bun-fight compared to the serene Masters show – crowds formed around a chalkboard map of the world by Rivane Neuenschwander on to which people were invited to pin fabric slogans taken from the Occupy movements. Featuring words like ‘debt’, ‘future’ and ‘nature’, printed onto fabric labels, the work – shown by Tanya Bonakdar Gallery – is to be sold as it appears at the end of the fair.

Tanya Bonakdar says: ‘It’s been the best year for me. It feels different and I think its due to Frieze Masters which has brought some serious collectors in to town.’

There was further crowd participation at Grizedale Arts, a farm-cum-arts-organisation from the Lake District, where people in white uniforms were throwing tomatoes at each other. ‘It’s the re-creation of an arcane village sport,’ explains curator Alistair Hudson, whose mission is ‘to show that art can be useful in society.’

To this end, Grizedale set up a model cricket pavilion designed by Chinese artists Yangjiang Group, and hosted a farmers market with a difference. Along with the sale of homemade bread, pickled eggs, kimchi and jam, over the weekend, various chefs appeared to cook unusual fare, the highlight being Sam Clark of Moro and his Vermin Dinner (including the likes of parasitic fungi and squirrel). ‘It’s the only place in the fair where you actually see cash changing hands,’ says Hudson.

Cashless transactions were continuing apace at Brazilian gallery Vermelho, where director Akio Aoki explained: ‘In Brazil, there’s a shortage of art. It’s almost impossible to get post-2008 works by Brazilian greats like Ernesto Neto and Beatriz Milhazes. And where collectors were spending £5000, they are now spending £50,000.’ He is hotly anticipating the opening in December of the White Cube in Sao Paulo where new works by Tracey Emin will go on show.

The Frieze effect sends ripples all across the city that encourage the big galleries to put on blockbuster shows, and smaller spaces to roll out their best artists. At the Zabludowicz Collection, located in a beautifully restored Methodist chapel, British artist Matthew Darbyshire created a fictional dystopian village featuring room sets decorated with furniture from Next, ironic corporate hoardings used by developers to cover repair-work on historic buildings and bad-taste civic architecture. Within the fair, at Herald St Gallery, he created vitrines featuring Avon aftershave bottles. The smell of the aftershave still lingers in his studio.

Over at Sunday, a show featuring works from 20 galleries less than 7 years old, sales and visitor numbers were up. ‘We could have sold Jack Strange‘s work six times over,’ says Rebecca May Marston, director of Limoncello gallery – one of the event’s founding galleries.

Despite its air of chaos and its down-at-heel location, people couldn’t get enough. This was the same everywhere you went; Lisson Gallery held an evening banquet and 700 people turned up. Three hundred more queued outside. At Tim Noble and Sue Websters after party at Tramp, it was one in, one out. A performance evening at David Roberts Art Foundation saw queues round the block.

Perhaps Perry, talking about why Internet art will never work, sums it up best: ‘I want to see different textures, different scales. I don’t want to see all my sculpture through a bit of flat glass. We are human animals. We need our tribal gatherings like Frieze.’

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ART OBSERVED

AO On Site – London: Frieze and Frieze Masters Art Fairs at Regent’s Park, Through October 14th

October 12th, 2012 Toby Ziegler, "The Cripples" via Art Observed
Toby Ziegler‘s The Cripples, image via Art Observed

Back in 2003 in Frieze’s first year, no major international art fair had ever been hosted in London before. Frieze Art Fair, organized by Matthew Slotover and Amanda Sharp, has helped take London from being a city without a focused art scene to its current state at the center of the European art market. Now in its tenth year, Frieze Art Fair in London’s Regent’s Park has seen around 60,000 visitors, with 264 dealers from 35 countries hoping to sell work (valuing an estimated  £230m) created by more than 2,400 artists within 175 of the world’s leading galleries.

Aaron Young at Massimo de Carlo in Milan
An Aaron Young motorcycle burn out work at Massimo de Carlo in Milan, photo via Art Observed

Hauser & Wirth, Frieze London 11-14 October 2012, Jason Rhoades, Shelf (Mutton Chops) with Unpainted Donkey (detail), 2003
Jason Rhoades, Shelf (Mutton Chops) with Unpainted Donkey (detail), 2003 © The Estate of Jason Rhoades Courtesy of Hauser & Wirth and David Zwirner, New York, Stefan Altenburger Photography Zürich

Pace Gallery Booth via Art Observed
David Zwirner Gallery’s booth, with Donald Judd works, photo via Art Observed

This year, the activity has expanded outside the main tent. The biggest addition to Frieze – nearly overshadowing the main fair – is the introduction of a sibling-fair happening simultaneously: just a 10-minute walk to the opposite end of Regent’s Park, Frieze Masters is a second (less boisterous and eccentric – more intimate, hushed and exquisite) tent with 101 stands, 22 of which are solo presentations by singular artists, with art ranging from the late 13th century to 2000.

Notable works at Frieze Masters included “A Vanitas,” a human skull sitting on top of a tome, sculpted from 17th century Italian marble priced at £350,000 at Daniel Katz and Poussin’s “Apollo and Daphne” (ca. 1620), rediscovered by Louvre curator Pierre Rosenberg  in the 1990s, priced at $1.75 million.

Frieze Masters via Art Observed
Frieze Masters via Art Observed

Frieze Masters via Art Observed
Frieze Masters via Art Observed

Buyers at the Frieze Masters have tended to be liberal in spending but conservative in choices, quick to buy (Rupert Wace, dealing in ancient Egyptian and classical art, who was selling megalithic axeheads sold four works in the first 36 minutes of the VIP hour), but leaning towards name brands and easily recognizable value. For lesser-known artists, the outcome has been on the disappointing end.


Nicolas Poussin, “Apollo and Daphne” courtesy Robiland + Voena Gallery

Hauser & Wirth (among others) had booths at both fairs. At Frieze Masters, the gallery dedicated an entire room to museum-quality works on paper by Eva Hesse. It also exhibited works by Alighiero Boetti, Yves Klein, and Atsuko Tanaka of the Gutai Group. At Frieze it presented a radical overview of sculpture by three artists: a sculptures in silicone by Paul McCarthy, Jason Rhoades’s massive neon pieces and a series of smaller, intimate reliefs from the 70s and 80s by Hans Josephsohn.

Nan Goldin Skinhead Dancing London Courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery
Nan Goldin, Skinhead Dancing, London Courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery

Matthew Marks Gallery presented a special installation of Nan Goldin photographs, as well as a group of five Fischli/Weiss flower photographs, new paintings by Gary Hume, and an installation of Ken Price drawings and sculptures, among other works by artists the gallery represents.

London is also full of off site exhibitions to keep fairgoers busy: Toby Ziegler‘s “The Cripples” located 14 floors below street level in a concrete parking structure features herds of dimly lit horse legs, and in the Malborough Contemporary down the street is Angela Ferreira‘s “Stone Free,” an installation in a variety of media, comparing the Cullinan Diamond Mine in South Africa with the Chislehurst Caves in South East London.

Claire Fontaine at Galerie Chantal Crousel
Claire Fontaine at Galerie Chantal Crousel via Art Observed

Nicholas Serota, director of the Tate Gallery, commented that “Frieze continues to be a fair in which we can all make discoveries of emerging and re-emerging artists.” The Tate collection has benefited from these discoveries, receiving 4 works as gifts from The Outset/Frieze Art Fair Fund, whose budget this year was a record-high £150,000 ($240,000).

Frieze Art Fair via Art Observed 2
At the Frieze Fair image via ArtObserved

The works include Hideko Fukushima‘s Ko 8, 1963; Nicholas Hlobo‘s Balindile, 2012; Caragh Thuring‘s Arthur Kennedy, 2012; and Jack Whitten‘s Epsilon Group II, 1977. Since 2003, the Tate has acquired 86 works from the fund – a project in which an international panel of curators annually selects pieces by emerging artists participating in Frieze London to contribute to the gallery’s national collection.

Jean Dubuffet at Waddington Custot Galleries via Art Observed
Jean Dubuffet sculpture at Waddington Custot Galleries, image via Art Observed

There is a marked difference this year in more academic thoughtful curation over attention-getting pieces. Matthias Merkel Hess’ glazed porcelain oil cans (Bucketry, 2011-12) sold well at ACME; Jean Luc Moulène’s glass sculptures were in high demand at the Thomas Dane Gallery.  Fairgoers may remember Christian Jankowski‘s  ”superyacht” from last year, which was an artwork and a commodity – it cost €65m to buy as boat, and €75m to buy as an artwork, authenticated by the artist himself. This year in its place “Frieze Projects”showcased experimental performative works. The Yangjiang Group and Grizedale Arts built ‘Coliseum of the Consumed’, a structure of food kiosks and performance art, stating that “art should be useful”.  The Telegraph spoke to one of the stall owners who was selling juniper juice in plastic baggies and had raised £40 for Youth Group UK doing so.

Hauser & Wirth, Frieze London Sculpture Park, Anri Sala, Clocked Perspective, 2012
Anri Sala, Clocked Perspective, 2012 Courtesy Marian Goodman Gallery, New York; Hauser & Wirth, Zurich/London

The Sculpture Park at Frieze London 2012 features Anri Sala‘s Clocked Perspective seen for the first time this summer at Documenta (13), and a group of Hans Josephsohn‘s reclining figures and torso.  Art Observed will feature a follow up photoset of the Frieze 2012 sculpture park in a later post.

Gillian Wearing, Self Portrait at Twenty-Seven Years Old Courtesy Maureen Paley
Gillian WearingSelf Portrait at Twenty Seven Years Old, 2012 Courtesy Maureen Paley Gallery

Anselm Reyle at Kujke Gallery, Seoul: Tina Kim Gallery
An Anselm Reyle work at Kujke Gallery, Seoul: Tina Kim Gallery, image via Art Observed

Frieze Art Fair via Art Observed
The main fair, image via Art Observed


Carsten Holler sculpture at Gagosian Gallery, image via Art Observed

Frieze Art Fair via Art Observed
A sculptural work, image via Art Observed


Chris Ofili work at Contemporary Fine Arts, Berlin via Art Observed

Sanja Ivekovic at Frieze via Art Observed
Sanja Ivekovic work, image via Art Observed

Frieze Masters via Art Observed
A work by Tomas Saraceno at Tanya Bonakdar at Frieze, image via Art Observed

Darren Lago at Annely Juda Frieze Art Fair London 2012
Darren Lago (a reference to a Mondrian in Lego) at Annely Juda, image via Art Observed


Doug Aitken work at 303 Gallery, image via Art Observed

Rachel Garrard at Jack Hanley Gallery
Rachel Garrard work (left) and a Jessica Rath scultpure at Jack Hanley Gallery


An Eric Wesley work at Bortolami, image via Art Observed


Gavin Turk neon work at Almine Rech Gallery, image via Art Observed

Angela de la Cruz  at Galerie Krinzinger Vienna via Art Observed
An Angela de la Cruz  sculpture at Galerie Krinzinger Vienna, image via Art Observed


Grayson Perry tapestry at Victoria Miro, image via Art Observed


Jason Martin sculpture at Lisson Gallery, image via Art Observed

Image: John Chamberlain at Gagosian via Art Observed
John Chamberlain sculpture at Gagosian Gallery, image via Art Observed


Jonas Wood work at David Kordansky Gallery, image via Art Observed


Katharina Fritsch sculpture at Matthew Marks Gallery, image via Art Observed


Marcel Eichner painting at Contemporary Fine Arts, image via Art Observed

- E. Baker

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HOMEBLOG › London’s Frieze Art Fair & Frieze Masters 2012
Alan Kane and Simon Periton, Eight Fculptures, 2012  Dan Flavin, Four Red Horizontals (To Sonja),1963 Diane Arbus at Timothy Taylor Diane Arbus, Tattooed Female Impersonator Applying Make-up in Mirror, 1959 and Female Impersonator in a Round Mirror, NYC, 1960 Donald Judd, Untitled (Bernstein 80-19), 1980 Giulio Paolini, Idem V, 1975 Lee Ufan, Relatum (Formerly System), 1969:2012. Philip Guston, Untitled, 1970 Walking through Regent’s Park between the Fairs Francis Upritchard, Archer Plate and Gooose Vessel, 2012 Florian Meisenberg, Untitled, 2012  Marcus Coates, British Moths, 2011 Marc Hundley, They Can’t Hear a Word We’ve Said When We Pretend That We’re Dead, 2012 Ross Knight, Form of Togetherness, 2012 Hundley and Knight at the Team Gallery stand Scott King, A Balloon For Britain, 2012 Amalia Pica, Catachresis No. 32 (Neck of the Bottled, Elbow of the Pipe), 2012
London’s Frieze Art Fair & Frieze Masters 2012
This year, for the first time, Frieze Masters is running alongside Frieze Art Fair. With a focus on historical art, this new fair expands the organization’s focus and hopes to create new connections between contemporary and historical art.Undoubtedly a highlight of Frieze Masters is the David Zwirner space. Two of my favorites, Dan Flavin and Donald Judd, are shown alongside Giulio Paolini, culminating in a colorful minimalist dream. London gallery Timothy Taylor has an eclectic mix of works by Diane Arbus, Sean Scully, and Philip Guston. Another notable piece was by Korean artist and philosopher Lee Ufan at the Blum & Poe stand. Titled Relatum (Formerly System), 1969/2012, the work consists of six steel plates elegantly placed in corners, bringing to mind the sculptures of Richard Serra.Walking through Regent’s Park from Frieze Masters to the main event, I came across Eight Fculptures by Alan Kane and Simon Periton in the sculpture park. A collaborative work, the artists re-imagine and subvert historical monuments and sculptures. Other highlights from the fair include London gallery Kate MacGarry, who showed works by New Zealand artist, Francis Upritchard. MacGarry also showed British Moths by Marcus Coates, an artist whose work is often connected to the idea of animal spirits. This piece comprises 24 small headshots of the artist covered in shaving foam, against a black background—his face appearing malformed and sinister.Team Gallery presented a two-person exhibition, showing advertising-inspired paper works by OC family member Marc Hundley and new sculptures by Ross Knight. Both artists employ found materials in their work: in Hundley’s case images and text from the past, while Knight re-contextualizes industrial elements like plastics and foam. The result is an exhibition that is both uncannily familiar and strange at once. I also loved British artist Scott King’s A Balloon for Britain at Herald St Gallery, a work that continues his exploration into the tension between pop culture and politics, questioning and undermining the idea of political symbol. The balloons are shown suspended over black and white images of suburban and working-class Britain, colorful and hopeful against the washed-out background.

Through October 14th, 2012
FRIEZE ART FAIR
Regent’s Park
London, NW14RY

 1.
MON, OCTOBER 15, 2012
10:32
LOLA LOLA LOLA <3
- Rupert

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Frieze London

Hauser & Wirth’s Mega Gallery Expands to Los Angeles

The Hollywood Reporter has offered the news that former MoCA Los Angeles Chief curator Paul Schimmel has accepted a offer and position with Hauser & Wirth, one of the most powerful galleries in the world. This is the first world-class international gallery to expand to Los Angeles from Europe. The gallery would be the only one in Los Angeles with a contemporary art curator of the highest rank on its team. There are a few others internationally with major curators on its staff, such as Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac in Paris. Schimmel would be quickly moving beyond his departure from MoCA, which was fighting for its financial life, to one a commercial gallery with vast resources. I am anticipating that he will create thematic group shows with exhibition catalogs that will be as potent as the best shows ever curated at MoCA. His curatorial eye and vision will give the works he selects a double power – that of immediate curatorial validation from the highest of cultural authorities, yet within the context of a hugely commercial enterprise. Hauser & Wirth’s Los Angeles gallery space could become the dominant player in the LA artworld.

It has only been a few months since the gallery expanded into the Chelsea gallery district in New York City, opening a spectacular 23,000 sq. ft. space with an exhibition of the work of Dieter Roth. The gallery was also already operating on New York’s Upper East Side. Now with spaces in London, Zurich and New York City, the gallery will be expanding into Los Angeles. When this happens and the actual location and scale of the space is announced, it would join a small number of the super elite galleries that have recently expanded west into LA, including L&M Arts and Matthew Marks (2 separate new spaces). This new tier of LA gallery, which includes massive spaces at Blum & Poe, Regen Projects, Perry Rubenstein, LA Louver, Gagosian, are offering a platform for many international artists, many whom have never before exhibited in Los Angeles, or at least not in recent or even distant memory. Add to this Laura Owens 12,000 sq. ft. studio space, east of downtown LA, that is currently showing several of her recent large scale paintings. The space is already being used for readings, screenings, and possibly a show by the legendary New York City painter Alex Katz. Many LA artists are quite surprised to see the continued growth of the LA art market at the uppermost elevation. Yet it is also quite rewarding to go to openings at these new venues, as several are defacto LA kunsthalles that are also commercial galleries, bringing in the best of international art to Los Angeles as never seen till today. Perhaps this also means that more of LA’s own top art stars today, from Paul McCarthy to Thomas Houseago to Sterling Ruby, will be exhibiting some of their works here, created in airplane hanger sized studios, (McCarthy, 150,000 sq. ft. LA studio), Ruby, 90,000 sq. ft. LA studio) instead of shipping everything to NYC or out of the country.

Vincent Johnson is an artist and writer in Los Angeles

www.vincentjohnsonart.com

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The following is a collection of articles, interviews, recent reviews and gallery installation shots concerning Hauser  Wirth.

http://hyperallergic.com/63937/chelseas-newest-mega-gallery-embraces-its-gritty-industrial-past/

Galleries

Chelsea’s Newest Mega-Gallery Embraces Its Gritty, Industrial Past

A view of Hauser & Wirth's cavernous new space, with one of Dieter Roth's "Floors" in the back leftA view of Hauser & Wirth’s cavernous new space, with one of Dieter Roth’s “Floors” in the back left (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic)

Yesterday afternoon, Hauser & Wirth opened the doors to its new space in Chelsea for a preview. The gallery’s only home until now in New York has been a townhouse on the Upper East Side, which, like all buildings of its sort, makes for a narrow, multilevel (and sometimes fragmented) art-viewing experience. The new gallery, the site of the former Roxy nightclub and roller rink on West 18th Street, is pretty much the opposite — a cavernous warehouse that, although it’s technically only one floor, seems to expand and spread in every direction.

Another view of the spaceAnother view of the space

The space, first and foremost, is huge: 23,000 square feet, bested probably only by David Zwirner’s 30,000 square feet a block north and Gagosian’s 25,000 square feet of space nearby on West 24th Street. Compared to those two, both of them quite pristine white cubes, Hauser & Wirth’s new gallery has a much grungier, more industrial feel. Co-owner Marc Payot touched on that in his remarks yesterday, saying the gallery “didn’t want to create another white cube. We wanted to respect the architecture.” Not that huge, industrial spaces are anything new, mind you, but it’s just as well: the place is pretty jaw-dropping as is, and though there’s no doubt I’d prefer Chelsea still sport a roller disco rather than yet another massive gallery, at least the shell of the Roxy — its vaulted ceilings and skylights, a small plate on the floor where the roller rink used to start — remains. (As an amusing side note, I discovered that the Roxy’s former website is now a Japanese site about dogs.)

Björn Roth explaining his father's "Landscape with Tower" (1976–94)Björn Roth explaining his father’s “Landscape with Tower” (1976–94)

The gallery is opening with a show devoted to Swiss artist Dieter Roth and his collaborations with his son, Björn Roth. A somewhat abbreviated visit left me with the impression that this is a fantastic exhibition, and a great choice to inaugurate the space. Whether it’s “Large Table Ruin,” a sprawling installation made from the accumulated tools and miscellaneous studio detritus that seems to have a mind of its own; an assemblage made partly from junk and paint cans and toys; or a painting that includes plastic tubes and is activated by pouring liquid into them, Roth’s work is rough to its core. His aesthetic is one of controlled chaos, an embodiment of the provisional, and his palette full of browns and tans and earthy colors.

Dieter Roth's "Floors"Dieter Roth’s “Floors” (click to enlarge)

All of this fits well with the feeling and architecture of the former nightclub — in addition to things that just fit, quite literally, in there, like Roth’s “The Floor” pieces, which are composed of two floors from his studio in Iceland. On a brief walkthrough of the show, which unfortunately was largely drowned out by noise from non-listeners and the echo of the space, Björn explained that his father had originally upended and installed the floors as artworks in 1992, when he was having an exhibition in Switzerland and didn’t have enough work to fill the giant space. I can’t help but take this as confirmation that by continually creating and opening huge spaces, the art world is encouraging artists to basically go big or go home — but that’s another story for a different day.

The second generation Roth and one of his sons, Oddur, also created a beautiful site-specific bar for the gallery, a permanent installation located in a little nook in the southeast corner of the space. To get to it, you traverse another permanent installation, Mary Heilmann’s “Two-Lane Highway” painted on the floor, while one of the bar’s windows overlooks the third permanent installation, a gleeful striped tape piece by Martin Creed that decks the entrance hallway and stairs.

Videos by Dieter Roth on the wall, Mary Heilmann's "Two-Lane Highway" on the floorVideos by Dieter Roth on the wall, Mary Heilmann’s “Two-Lane Highway” on the floor
A view of Martin Creed's permanent installation from inside the Roths' barA view of Martin Creed’s permanent installation from inside the Roths’ bar

The bar was the subject of much conversation among the assembled writers, artists, and others — I suspect because its dark wood, jumbled candles, coziness, and slightly underfinished feeling make it exactly the kind of place you’d want to hang out in (if only it were in Brooklyn …). Also because most of us will never actually get to hang out there: like so much of the art world, the bar won’t be open to the public, only accessible for special occasions.

Bjorn and Oddur Roth's "Roth New York Bar"Björn and Oddur Roth’s “Roth New York Bar”

Hauser & Wirth’s new space at 511 West 18th Street (Chelsea, Manhattan) opens to the public tomorrow, Wednesday, January 23, with the exhibition Dieter Roth. Björn Roth.
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http://www.purple.fr/diary/entry/sterling-ruby-s-exhm-exhibition-at-hauser-wirth-london

STERLING RUBY’S “EXHM” EXHIBITION at Hauser & Wirth, London Photo Aurora Aspen








Hauser & Wirth

20 Years

€ 58.00

Hauser & Wirth
20 Years

Edited by Michaela Unterdörfer, Hauser & Wirth, texts by Susanne Hillman, Michaela Unterdörfer, Iwan Wirth, Maria de Lamerens, graphic design by studio achermann, Zürich

English

2013. 1082 pp., more than 1500 ills.

21.90 x 29.30 cm
hardcover in slipcase

available

ISBN 978-3-7757-3512-4

| History of the gallery’s past twenty years in a comprehensive reference work

| An example of an influential contemporary art gallery with branches in Zurich, London, and New York

When Iwan Wirth, Manuela, and Ursula Hauser founded the Hauser & Wirth Gallery in 1992, there was no art market in the current sense. The numerous fairs, auctions, biennials, and festivals were not initiated until later. Philanthropic entrepreneurs professionalized, public cultural institutions privatized, and collectors opened their own museums. Art become a status symbol and an investment; hence, the mediation of content, protected by the new profession of curator, also became more important. Parallel to its gallery platform and its over fifty artists, including Louise Bourgeois, Isa Genzken, and Paul McCarthy, Hauser & Wirth regularly shows historical stances in elaborate museum-like presentations of artists such as Egon Schiele, Francis Picabia, and Hans Arp. This publication devotes itself to the gallery’s artists in more than fifty generously illustrated chapters and includes an extensive chronology, archival material, and personal photographs of over two hundred exhibitions, shedding light on the gallery’s lively history.

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purple DIARYGO BACK
THOMAS HOUSEAGO’S “SPECIAL BREW” EXHIBITION at Hauser & Wirth London, London Photo Aurora Aspen

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http://www.aestheticamagazine.com/blog/eva-hesse-1965-hauser-wirth-london/

blog-1

Eva Hesse 1965 at Hauser & Wirth, London

In 1964, Eva Hesse and her husband Tom Doyle were invited by the industrialist Friedrich Arnhard Scheidt to a residency in Kettwig an der Ruhr, Germany. The following fifteen months marked a significant transformation in Hesse’s practice. ‘Eva Hesse 1965‘ running from 30 January to 9 March at Hauser & Wirth, brings together key drawings, paintings and reliefs from this short, yet pivotal period where the artist was able to re-think her approach to colour, materials and her two-dimensional practice, and begin moving towards sculpture, preparing herself for the momentous strides she would take upon her return to New York.

Hesse’s studio space was located in an abandoned textile factory in Kettwig an der Ruhr. The building still contained machine parts, tools and materials from its previous use and the angular forms of these disused machines and tools served as inspiration for Hesse’s mechanical drawings and paintings. Sharp lines come together in these works to create complex and futuristic, yet nonsensical forms, which Hesse described in her writings as ‘…clean and clear – but crazy like machines…’.

Seeking a continuation of her mechanical drawings, in March of 1965, Hesse began a period of feverish work in which she made fourteen reliefs, which venture into three-dimensional space. Works such as H + H (1965) and Oomamaboomba (1965) are the material embodiment of her precisely linear mechanical drawings. Vibrant colours of gouache, varnish and tempera are built up using papier maché and objects Hesse found in the abandoned factory: wood, metal and most importantly, cord, which was often left to hang, protruding from the picture plane. This motif would reappear in the now iconic sculptures Hesse would make in New York.

The time Hesse spent in Germany amounted to much more than a period of artistic experimentation. In Germany, Hesse was afforded the freedom to exercise her unique ability to manipulate materials, creating captivating, enigmatic works which would form the foundation of her emerging sculptural practice.

Eva Hessse 1965, 30 January until 9 March, Hauser & Wirth London, Savile Row, London, W1S 2ET. www.hauserwirth.com

Credits:

1. Oomamaboomba, 1965, Ursula Hauser Collection, Switzerland. Photo: Abby Robinson, New York
2. Eva Hesse at work in her studio in Kettwig an der Ruhr, Germany, ca. 1964 / 1965 © The Estate of Eva Hesse. Courtesy Hauser & Wirth. Photo: Nathan Kernan
3. No title, 1965, © The Estate of Eva Hesse. Courtesy Hauser & Wirth

——

http://www.contemporaryartdaily.com/2012/10/a-visual-essay-on-gutai-at-hauser-wirth/

slideshow

Contemporary Art Daily

A Daily Journal of International Exhibitions

“A Visual Essay on Gutai” at Hauser & Wirth

October 21st, 2012

Artists: Norio Imai, Akira Kanayama, Takesada Matsutani, Sadamasa Motonaga, Shuji Mukai, Saburo Murakami, Shozo Shimamoto, Kazuo Shiraga, Yasuo Sumi, Atsuko Tanaka, Tsuruko Yamazaki, Jiro Yoshihara

Venue: Hauser & Wirth, New York

Exhibition Title: A Visual Essay on Gutai

Date: September 12 – October 27, 2012

 

Full gallery of images, press release and link available after the jump.

Images:

"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
Tsuruko Yamazaki
Tsuruko Yamazaki
"A Virtual Essay on Gutai" at Hauser & Wirth
Kazuo Shiraga
Kazuo Shiraga
Norio Imai
Norio Imai
Norio Imai
Norio Imai
Norio Imai
Norio Imai
Akira Kanayama
Akira Kanayama
Takesada Matsutani
Takesada Matsutani
Takesada Matsutani
Takesada Matsutani
Sadamasa Motonaga
Sadamasa Motonaga
Sadamasa Motonaga
Sadamasa Motonaga
Shuji Mukai
Shuji Mukai
Saburo Mirakami
Saburo Mirakami
Saburo Murakami
Saburo Murakami
Shozo Shimamoto
Shozo Shimamoto
Shozo Shimamoto
Shozo Shimamoto
Shozo Shimamoto
Shozo Shimamoto
Shozo Shimamoto
Shozo Shimamoto
Kazuo Shiraga
Kazuo Shiraga
Yasuo Sumi
Yasuo Sumi
Atsuko Tanaka
Atsuko Tanaka
Atsuko Tanaka
Atsuko Tanaka
Atsuko Tanaka
Atsuko Tanaka
Tsuroko Yamazaki
Tsuroko Yamazaki
Tsuroko Yamazaki
Tsuroko Yamazaki
Tsuroko Yamazaki
Tsuroko Yamazaki
Jiro Yoshihara
Jiro Yoshihara
Jiro Yoshihara
Jiro Yoshihara

Images courtesy of Hauser & Wirth, New York

Press Release:

New York, NY… After World War II, a devastated Japan processed the impact of the atomic bomb and faced a cultural void. It was in this atmosphere of existential alienation that the Gutai Art Association (Gutai Bijutsu Kyokai) – a group of about twenty young artists, rallying around the charismatic painter Jiro Yoshihara – emerged in the mid-1950s to challenge convention. Although keenly aware of Japan’s artistic traditions, the Gutai artists attempted to distance themselves from the sense of defeat and impotence that pervaded their country, and to overcome the past completely with ‘art that has never existed before’. They burst out of the expected confines of painting with daring works that demonstrated a freewheeling relationship between art, body, space and time. Dismissed by Japanese critics as spectacle makers, the Gutai artists nevertheless produced a profound legacy of aesthetic experimentation, influencing Western critics and anticipating Abstract Expressionism, Arte Povera, Fluxus, and Conceptual Art.

‘A Visual Essay on Gutai’ traces efforts by these artists to resolve the inherent contradictions between traditions of painting – the making of images on a flat, framed plane – and the core tenets of a movement that called for experimentation, individuality, unexpected materials, and, perhaps above all, physical action and psychological freedom. On view at Hauser & Wirth New York will be more than 30 works spanning twenty years, all of them exciting responses to the constraints of painting and the limits of time itself.

Curated by Midori Nishizawa and organized with Olivier Renaud-Clément, ‘A Visual Essay on Gutai’ also marks the half-century anniversary of Gutai’s first U.S. exhibition, which was organized by the French critic Michel Tapié, noted champion of Art Informel. His ‘6th Gutai Art Exhibition’ was presented in New York City in September 1958 at the Martha Jackson Gallery at 32 East 69th Street – in the townhouse now occupied by Hauser & Wirth New York.

‘A Visual Essay on Gutai’ will remain on view at the gallery through 27 October and will be accompanied by a new publication based, both in concept and design, upon the twelve Gutai journals that the group published and disseminated internationally in the decade between 1955 and 1965.

The Gutai Art Association was formed by Jiro Yoshihara in July 1954, in the Ashiya region of Japan. Exhorting younger artists with such slogans as, ‘Don’t imitate others!’ and ‘Engage in the newness!’. Yoshihara challenged Gutai’s members to discard traditional artistic practices and to seek not only fresh means of expression but the origins of artistic creation itself. The Gutai artists responded with performance, installation, flower arrangement, and music, often in public places. In seeking to define this constantly changing body of work, Yoshihara penned The Gutai Art Manifesto in 1956, proclaiming ‘the novel beauty to be found in works of art and architecture of the past which have changed their appearance due to the damage of time or destruction by disasters in the course of the centuries…that beauty which material assumes when it is freed from artificial make-up and reveals its original characteristics.’ Yoshihara concluded the Manifesto by stating, ‘Our work is the result of investigating the possibilities of calling the material to life. We shall hope that there is always a fresh spirit in our Gutai exhibitions and that the discovery of new life will call forth a tremendous scream in the material itself’.

In working toward the goals outlined by Yoshihara, the Gutai group realized that the elements needed to make unprecedented art were in fact to be found in unexpectedly familiar places. Kazuo Shiraga wallowed in mud; Saburo Murakami leapt through expanses of paper; and Atsuko Tanaka employed bells and lightbulbs in theatrical performances. In tandem with such efforts, however, Gutai artists continued to struggle with the expected materials and physical parameters of classic painting techniques, and to explore abstraction as a means to escape its intellectual and creative confines. In ‘A Visual Essay on Gutai’, visitors to Hauser & Wirth will encounter works in which stretched canvas is married to acrylic, plastic, cloth, vinyl, resin, plaster, tin and even projected light – works that occupy a liminal realm between painting and sculpture. Works by Tsuruko Yamazaki, Norio Imai and Takesada Matsutani in particular ambush the pictorial plane with, respectively, cloudlike tin projections, white molded apertures, and glossy vinyl and resin blobs.

Kazuo Shiraga is perhaps the best known Gutai artist internationally. Among the works in ‘A Visual Essay on Gutai’ are two of his powerful ‘Performance Paintings’ – aggressive abstractions from the early 1960s in crimson and green. ‘I want to paint as though rushing around a battle field’, he wrote in 1955. He even used his feet to create these works in the heat of the moment.

The exhibition also includes two important paintings by Atsuko Tanaka, the most internationally recognized female figure within the Gutai group who is best known for creating the ‘Electric Dress’ (1955). This garment made of incandescent bulbs was painted in primary colors and worn by the artist during a Gutai performance. The physical dress with its tangled wires and brightly lit bulbs morphed into Tanaka’s two-dimensional paintings, which are seemingly whimsical works exploring the circles and circuits in which she was ‘sensing eternity’.

‘A Visual Essay on Gutai’ also includes two of Jiro Yoshihara’s famed ‘circle’ series of about 25 paintings, one of the most important bodies of work to emerge from the Gutai movement. ‘Work’ from 1967 is an important example from this series, which was influenced by the Zen artist-monk Nantembo Toju (1839 – 1926), an artist who worked in calligraphy and ink painting. In Zen tradition, the circle represents void and substance, emptiness and completion, and the union of painting, calligraphy, and meditation.

At a time when a majority of Japanese artists had adopted a Western approach to creating and criticizing art, Gutai’s ideas and works were repeatedly met with the question, ‘Is this art?’. What established Gutai as entirely unique was the fact that no one, often including the movement’s own members, could predict the group’s course and the manifestations its work would take. Gutai’s imperative to continually create something surprising took its artists in new directions, leading Yoshihara to ask himself, ‘whether or not the production process was stamped with the instant of creation as proof of the fierce desire to affirm a vivid sense of adventure and a free spirit’.

Link: “A Visual Essay on Gutai” at Hauser & Wirth

—-

bruce nauman: mindfuck exhibition at hauser and wirth, london

designboom
bruce nauman: mindfuck exhibition at hauser and wirth, london

original content
bruce nauman: mindfuck exhibition at hauser and wirth, london
1
Jan 30, 2013

first image
‘run from fear, fun from rear’, 1972 by bruce nauman
neon tubing with clear glass tubing suspension frame
two parts:
20.3 x 116.8 x 5.7 cm  / 8  x 46  x 2 1/4 in
18.4 x 113 x 5.7 cm  / 7 1/4 x 44 1/2 x 2 1/4 in
image © 2012 bruce nauman / artists rights society (ARS), new york / DACS london
private collection

bruce nauman: mindfuck
hauser and wirth london, savile row
on from the 30th of january through to the 9th of march, 2013

from the 30th of january, 2013 hauser and wirth will present the work of renowned artist bruce nauman with an exhibition titled ‘mindfuck’
in the north gallery, savile row. the show, featuring an eclectic selection of works from throughout nauman’s career, will focus particularly
on his iconic neon sculptures and installations. the work triggers a critical dialogue surrounding a body of work whose central themes
explore the human condition, language, sex, and death. the experience of works by nauman speaks of a certain state of trauma,
a nod to the hysteric, and ode to the psychotic – to the consequences of the superego and to the logic of dreams.

weaved throughout the compositions is nauman’s bizarre ability to build visual and experiential manifestations that tap into the
complexity of the human unconscious. ‘mindfuck’ calls attention to the enduring weight of the mind-body split in the artist’s work -
neon sculptures such as ‘sex and death / double ’69′ (1985) and ‘good boy / bad boy’ (1986 – 1987) could be said to represent the
conscious and cerebral side of his art, whereas installations such as ‘carousel (stainless steel version)’ (1988) and
‘untitled (helman gallery parallelogram)’ (1971) focus on the phenomenological aspect of his exploration of perception, space, and the body.
nauman’s artistic approach enters the worlds of psychology, anthropology, sociology, and behavioural science.
the artist once stated that he wanted to make ‘art that was just there all at once…like getting hit in the back of the neck with a baseball bat’.


‘sex and death/double ’69”, 1985
neon tubing on aluminium monolith
227 x 134.8 x 34 cm / 89 3/8 x 53 1/8 x 13 3/8 in
image © 2012 bruce nauman / artists rights society (ARS), new york / DACS london
private collection. courtesy hauser & wirth
photo: stefan altenburger photography zürich


‘untitled’ (helman gallery parallelogram) (detail), 1971
wallboard, green fluorescent lights
458 x 552 x 691 cm / 180 3/8 x 217 x 3/8 x 272 in
glenstone
image © 2012 bruce nauman / artists rights society (ARS), new york / DACS london


‘carousel (stainless steel version)’, 1988
stainless steel, cast aluminum, polyurethane foam, electric motor
height: 183 cm / 72 in
diameter: 612.1 cm / 241 in
image © 2012 bruce nauman / artists rights society (ARS), new york / DACS london
courtesy of the ydessa hendeles art foundation
photo: robert keziere


‘sex and death’, 1985
pencil, charcoal and watercolour on paper
approx. 200 x 228 cm  / c. 78 3/4 x 89 3/4 in
image © 2012 bruce nauman / artists rights society (ARS), new york / DACS london
private collection. courtesy hauser & wirth

lara db
01.30.13


Former MOCA Chief Curator Paul Schimmel Inks New Gallery Deal

12:12 PM PDT 4/11/2013 by Degen Pener, Maxwell Williams
Paul Schimmel - P 2013
Getty Images
Paul Schimmel

The deal with Hauser & Wirth could bring plans for the gallery to open a space in Los Angeles.

Paul Schimmel has landed.

our editor recommends

According to art world insiders close to the former chief curator of the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA), Schimmel has inked a deal with the Zurich-based gallery Hauser & Wirth, which also has branches in London and New York. According to the sources, the deal will bring Schimmel to the gallery, and that plans for the gallery to open a space in Los Angeles are likely.

If this is the case, the gallery, which represents dozens of major artists including Paul McCarthy, Christoph Büchel, Pipilotti Rist and Rita Ackermann, would immediately become one of the biggest players in town.

The terms of the deal are not known.

Schimmel was fired from his position at MOCA amidst an imbroglio that included the resignations of the museum’s four remaining artist trustees, John Baldessari, Barbara Kruger, Catherine Opie and Ed Ruscha. Since Schimmel’s departure from MOCA, he has worked as the co-director of the Mike Kelley Foundation in Los Angeles. It is unclear whether the gallery — which handles the estates of many artists including Eva Hesse, Jason Rhodes, Allan Kaprow and Dieter Roth — will take Kelley’s estate aboard.

On March 19th, Hauser & Wirth hosted a conversation between Schimmel and Los Angeles-based artist Sterling Ruby at its London branch, in conjunction with an exhibition of Ruby’s work. This talk sparked rumors about the curator’s involvement with the gallery, and soon whispers turned to full-blown speculation.

Schimmel is one of the most highly respected curators in the field, having organized upwards of 350 exhibitions, most notably retrospectives of the artists Charles Ray, Paul McCarthy, and Takashi Murakami, as well as a host of thematic group shows. His swan song at MOCA, “Destroy the Picture: Painting the Void, 1949-1962” about artists who physically damaged their canvases was hailed by the LA Times as “boldly thoughtful” and “illuminat[ing] a big — but overlooked — idea.”

A rep from the gallery did not reply to a request for comment.

====

http://artobserved.com/2012/11/armorys-creative-director-leaves-fair-to-accept-position-at-hauser-wirth/

Michael Hall Leaves Armory Show for Hauser & Wirth

by Brian Boucher 11/28/12

Armory Show creative director Michael Hall has resigned effective Friday. He confirmed his departure to A.i.A. by phone today.

Hall will take up a new job at Hauser & Wirth Gallery next week after almost seven years with the Armory Show. Hauser & Wirth opened an Upper East Side location in 2009, and will inaugurate a new venue in Chelsea in January.

Hall started at the fair in 2005 as operations manager but became managing director when Katelijne De Backer left her post as director in 2011. He became creative director this fall. He was involved in developing the talks and film series (Open Forum and Armory Film) and the regional “Focus” section, and selected and worked with commissioned artists.

Cofounding director Paul Morris resigned in September after 18 years. On Sept. 27 A.i.A. broke the news that the Armory Show, the Volta Show and Art Platform Los Angeles were up for sale by Chicago-based Merchandise Mart Properties.

The Armory Show’s centennial edition will take place March 7-10, 2013, at piers 92 and 94 on the Hudson River.

PHOTO: Michael Hall and Jacob Fabritius. Photo by Catarina Lundgren Åström via Flickr.

http://www.vogue.com/magazine/article/house-of-wirth-the-gallery-worlds-art-couple/#1

House of Wirth: The Gallery World’s Power Couple

by Dodie Kazanjian

Hauser & WirthIwan and Manuela Wirth with Thomas Houseago’s Hermaphrodite, 2011
Photographed by Norman Jean Roy

On the heels of a major New York expansion, the gallery world’s Swiss power couple is set to open a cultural center in the English countryside.

New York’s Chelsea art district is fighting its way back from the devastating floodwaters of Hurricane Sandy. Countless works of art have been lost, and some of the smaller galleries may not survive, but the art community as a whole seems amazingly buoyant. At David Zwirner on West Nineteenth Street, where the water level hit five feet, Diana Thater’s video installation Chernobyl is up and running in the only operable space a week and a half after Sandy, while construction crews labor around the clock nearby. One block south, work is continuing full tilt on Hauser & Wirth’s huge new gallery, whose opening date is scheduled for January 22. Marc Payot, the Hauser & Wirth partner who is in charge here, tells me he hadn’t wanted to look at this space originally, because it wasn’t on the ground floor—but he did so, and it’s turned out to be a very smart decision. Confidence in the future, which has helped to make Hauser & Wirth one of the world’s most powerful contemporary-art galleries, is what drives the art world these days.

Iwan Wirth, a 42-year-old Swiss who started the business 20 years ago in Zurich, has never been afraid to think big. Exuberant, curly-haired, bursting with enthusiasm for his artists and their projects, he has transformed the London art scene during the past decade with his three galleries in Mayfair. Now, at 24,700 square feet, his emerging New York behemoth—formerly known as the Roxy, the famous eighties disco and roller rink—will be one of the largest column-free art spaces in town. Hauser & Wirth has had a smaller gallery on East Sixty-ninth Street since 2009, but now that it represents Paul McCarthy, Roni Horn, and several other important American artists exclusively, Iwan has decided that they need “a bigger playground.” He adds, “The artists will want this, and it’s important that we feel it before they do.” Martin Creed, the British Turner Prize–winner, is re-creating the grand stairway of the new gallery as an artwork. Because Dieter Roth, the late Swiss artist whose work will also inaugurate it, insisted on having a bar in all his exhibitions, Hauser & Wirth is installing one (permanently) in what used to be the Roxy’s VIP area, over the stairs. The exhibitions will stay up much longer than they do in other New York galleries: There will be only four a year. Unlike the globe-girdling Gagosian empire, Hauser & Wirth has no plans to establish outposts in other cities. “The artists lead the way,” Iwan tells me. “We’re located in exactly the right places, and now we have the ideal space in New York.”

Hauser & WirthLouise Bourgeois, Spider, 1994
Photographed by Norman Jean Roy

I spent some time with Iwan and Manuela, his wife and business partner, in England last summer. Theirs is very much a family business. Iwan, who has been buying and selling art since he was sixteen, went to see Ursula Hauser in 1990 because he had an opportunity to buy a Picasso and a Chagall, but only half the money needed to pay for them. Ursula, a self-made retail and department-store magnate who became one of Switzerland’s greatest art collectors, found him charming, and agreed to put up the money. They celebrated the joint venture with a bottle of cognac, three snifters of which so unhinged nineteen-year-old Iwan that he became inarticulate when Ursula introduced him to her daughter Manuela, and then drove his car into their fence as he was leaving. Manuela overcame her dubious first impressions of him (“arrogant, young”); she joined the new firm of Hauser & Wirth as his secretary and agreed to marry him four years later. Their offices are side by side now, in their big, suavely modern gallery on Savile Row, and they have an equal share in all decisions—except those regarding sales. “Like Ursula, Manuela is useless as a salesperson,” Iwan tells me, “because she doesn’t like to let go of things, and she’s too polite to nag people. It’s much easier for me because I have to pay the bills.” All three of them are passionate collectors, and the personal family collection, most of which is in a warehouse in Switzerland, covers a very wide range of art in addition to the core holdings in modern and contemporary.

“Being Swiss,” he says, “you have to be a bit of a pirate—go out and find the treasure, because it won’t find you. We’re a small country surrounded by big players, and you have to find your niche. When we started our gallery in 1992, most of the important painters were taken, and local collectors already had strong relationships with galleries. So the niche for us was artists who were making more complicated work, work that needed support, that was highly important but not commercially successful. A lot of the artists we take on don’t have a market—our job is to build it.”Their first artist was Pipilotti Rist, a young Swiss whose uproarious video Ever Is Over All, produced by Hauser & Wirth, would soon take the art world by storm and be acquired by the Museum of Modern Art. Jason Rhoades and Paul McCarthy, two Americans whose unruly, in-your-face sculptural installations had cult status but scared off dealers and collectors, joined the gallery soon afterward, as did Louise Bourgeois, a legendary older artist whose market fell far short of her reputation. Others followed—Roni Horn, Ellen Gallagher, Rashid Johnson, Sterling Ruby, the estates of Eva Hesse and Henry Moore—50-plus artists and estates, more than a third of whom are women. “I’m a feminist,” Iwan explains. “I’ve always felt that women artists in the twentieth century are dramatically underrated, underrepresented, and underpriced.” (Manuela teases him because his family comes from the Appenzell region of Switzerland, where women couldn’t vote until 22 years ago.)

Hauser & Wirth artists check in, but they don’t check out; not one has ever left this artist-centric gallery. Iwan estimates that he spends 95 percent of his time working with and for his artists, and the other 5 percent on art sales in the secondary market, which, because he’s so good at it, keeps the gallery afloat. “The best thing about the art market,” he says, “is that it’s unstructured and unregulatable. That’s the nature of the beast. Sharing knowledge and information is the backbone of our business. Things that would put you in jail in another industry are not bad in this wonderful world. This suits me very well because that’s the way I think and function. I’m a fish in water. People confuse prices with quality, but if you’re knowledgeable and have a feeling for art, even in this crazy market, you can find great art that’s affordable.”

In 2000, Iwan joined forces with David Zwirner and opened Zwirner & Wirth in New York on East Sixty-ninth Street. They did a lot of great shows together over the next nine years but decided to go their separate ways because of what Zwirner describes as “brand confusion”—they still share artists, inventory, and clients, and continue to work together. “It’s a lot of fun to have a real friend in this industry,” says Zwirner. “Somebody I can trust a hundred percent.” Meanwhile, with the Zurich operation thriving, Iwan and Manuela established themselves in London—first in Piccadilly, then Savile Row. They moved their family over in 2005, put their four young children in English schools, and then, in 2007, they discovered Somerset.

On a typically English day—cloudy with periods of rain—Iwan, Manuela, and I are driving southwest in their sturdy Land Rover. It’s two hours to Bruton, the town where they went looking for a country place of their own and fell in love with the ancient, historic, and spiritual landscape of Somerset. (This is King Arthur territory, and its history goes back to Neolithic times: We pass Stonehenge on the way.) They bought a fifteenth-century farmhouse and set to work renovating it, a five-year project that involved extensive landscaping of the 500-acre property—restoring an apple orchard, putting in wildflower meadows, a walled vegetable garden, and 40,000 trees and bushes with the help of New York–based landscape designer Miranda Brooks. They moved in a few months ago, and the children now live there full time; Manuela and Iwan commute from London on weekends. “It’s the epicenter of everything we do now,” says Iwan. “It was in horrible condition when we first saw it. But within half an hour, Manuela looked at me, I looked at her, and we knew this was destiny. The place found us.”

The rain is coming down harder as we get closer, driving on a narrow lane that keeps turning into green tunnels between the thick high hedges on each side. “They’re ancient and full of birds and berries and small animals,” says Iwan. “I’m actually planning a book about Somerset hedges.” We enter the property, passing flocks of sheep, a monumental Thomas Houseago sculpture, and an allée of stone heads by Hans Josephsohn, which have just been delivered. Inside the front door, where two long rows of dark-green wellies are lined up, in various sizes, the two youngest children fling themselves into their parents’ arms. A deep immersion in English country life is the keynote here, coexisting with the challenging works of art on view throughout the marvelous old house.

The next morning, the sun keeps trying to come out as Iwan and Manuela offer an overland tour of Durslade Farm, the adjoining, 200-acre property that the gallery bought three years ago, and which they are turning into a local cultural center. The farm buildings here, which date from the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries, haven’t been inhabited for 20 years, and the place is a picturesque ruin—it was the setting for some scenes in the film Chocolat. Scheduled for completion in the spring of 2014, the renovation will provide art-exhibition and education spaces, film screenings, a two-acre landscaped park (with 24,785 plants) designed by Piet Oudolf, who did the plantings for New York’s wildly popular High Line, and a world-class restaurant and bar. The heart of the project is an ambitious artist-in-residence program, which has already started with a year-long visit from Pipilotti Rist, along with her ten-year-old son. As Iwan says, there’s a tradition of writers, music and theater here, but it’s a desert when it comes to visual art. “This is where art can go to work and change people.

“This place is a slowing-down facility,” adds Iwan, whose cornucopia of ambitious projects might overwhelm a fainter spirit, but who himself never seems rushed about anything. That night, sitting at the long dining table in the barn, with his four children, their nanny, and Phyllida Barlow, a 68-year-old, little-known English artist who’s recently joined the gallery, Iwan is indefatigable. He carves and serves the steaks he’s just grilled—from an animal on the next-door farm—passes around a huge wedge of Cheddar from the artisanal cheesemaker we visited this afternoon, and urges us to have another glass of his excellent Châteauneuf-du-Pape. He banters with Phyllida about the sculpture he’s asked her to make for the ancient well in their garden.“He’s forever young,” Mary Heilmann, another artist he represents, told me, “and he’s forever old.”

This month Hauser & Wirth is giving a dinner party in the entrance hall of the New York Public Library to celebrate the opening of its Chelsea gallery. All its artists are invited, and the gallery is flying them in from around the world. Both the setting and the scale are momentous, yet somehow appropriate. Anthony d’Offay, London’s most important art dealer from the late sixties until he closed his gallery in 2001, told me recently that he has known three great contemporary dealers. “There was Leo Castelli, Xavier Fourcade, and now, Hauser & Wirth. These three have had the old-fashioned idea that encouraging the artist and being truthful and doing great shows has an important role in the world. It’s not about making a trillion dollars. It’s about enthusiasm for great works of art. Iwan goes to sleep at night, and dreams about art.”

January 10, 2013 2:59p.m.

The New Hauser & Wirth Makes Room for an Entire Army of Loyal Artists

Hauser&Wirth

Iwan Wirth is standing at the top of the stairs in the former Roxy dance club and roller rink, which he recently had renovated into the largest of the outposts of his global art enterprise, Hauser & Wirth. It is the week of the opening of the big-box gallery’s first show, a survey of the rather intimidating work of Dieter Roth and his son Björn Roth, and he’s introducing his artists to each other: Zany British conceptualist Martin Creed, styled a bit like Willy Wonka (and who enlivened the entry stairway with strips of colored tape), meet world-weary Indian Subodh Gupta, draped in a scarf and looking desperate for a tea. Thirty-three of Wirth’s artists made the pilgrimage altogether, and many are still jet-lagged after being called from all over the world. “Everybody knows me, but not everybody knows each other,” he says with Swiss bonhomie. “It’s like a class reunion, only they’ve never met before.”

The grand opening of this converted disco is the biggest thing to hit West Chelsea since Hurricane Sandy. Fortunately, the exhibition space is up a flight. What was once a sweaty, shirtless dance floor is now, thanks to architect Annabelle Selldorf, a vast, tidy exhibition hall, the largest column-free space in Chelsea. Later this month, the dealer David Zwirner, Wirth’s former partner in New York, whose own gallery already takes up most of 19th Street, is opening a five-story expansion on 20th Street, which Selldorf also designed. As the art gets supersized along with the profits, these new galleries look and feel like museums. Gagosian was a pioneer of this model, but, as one curator who has worked with both attests, “Iwan’s no Gagosian. He’s so warm,” and “unusually focused on art which is difficult to understand.”

And on naughtiness: Ten years ago, when Hauser & Wirth opened a gallery in a former bank in London, Paul McCarthy created a bawdy, messy food-fight video work featuring people wearing oversize heads portraying Osama bin Laden, President George W. Bush, and the Queen Mother. “These spaces are about education, of course,” says Wirth, a burgherish but still boyish 42.

Wirth’s journey began in 1990 outside Zurich, when he was a teenage entrepreneur looking for seed money to help buy a Picasso and a Chagall to then resell. He persuaded a department-store owner, Ursula Hauser, to invest, and after they started Hauser & Wirth together, he married her daughter Manuela. At first, the gallery worked in the “secondary market,” matching old works with new owners, before beginning to represent contemporary artists — which wasn’t easy, since, as Wirth has admitted, “No artist really needs to show in Switzerland.” They overcame their place on “the periphery” of the art world — though very much at an epicenter of European money — by punctilious customer service. (Wirth once cited good bookkeeping as a major reason for his success.) And by having good taste in what they bought for themselves: “They were my best collectors,” says Rita Ackermann, an abstract painter born in Hungary who now lives in New York and joined last summer. “A dealer must collect the art themselves.” The gallery brags that it’s never lost an artist.

In Zurich, Hauser & Wirth is part of a hybrid commercial and noncommercial arts complex in a former brewery; outside London, it is building a local cultural center with an artists-in-residence program. But in New York, the gallery that represents ­museum-approved artists like Pipilotti Rist, Roni Horn, Louise Bourgeois, and Dan ­Graham was tucked away from the ­contemporary-art spotlight in a townhouse on the Upper East Side, shared with Zwirner until 2009. (The Zwirner & Wirth partnership ended around the time Wirth started looking for spaces downtown; Zwirner has cited a need to avoid “brand confusion.”) The gallery’s arrival in Chelsea — in this New York dream palace, a Ziegfeld for art — is a sign that art globalism goes both ways. It’s not just Gagosian in Hong Kong, it’s also foreigners planting their flags in the New York market.

With, of course, their own values. “I think with Iwan it’s not a commercial venture. It’s very much about the artists and what they need and what they want,” says Paul McCarthy, who is seated with his wife in a bar designed by Oddur Roth, Dieter’s grandson, a cozy tangle of industrial junk. “For me, the pieces have gotten bigger, almost to the point where I can’t show them. They’d have no place to go; who would own them? Instead of saying ‘Scale down, this is better for your art’ — which means better for sales — Iwan just follows.” Which sounds awfully indulgent, but when I ask Wirth about it, he says, “It’s not carte blanche — well, of course, it is carte blanche, but in a very controlled way.”

“You can be a great artist but still make really horrible decisions,” says Ackermann, who felt that, when she met Marc Payot, the also-Swiss head of Hauser & Wirth in New York, “it was the first time in my life when I had spoken honestly and completely with a dealer.” Payot tells her, she says, “This is a better one, that is a worse one, that is a piece of shit.”

Traditionally, Wirth explains, the secondary market has paid for the fun part: the creating of new art. Now, as more young artists are successful in their own right, he’s taken to looking for “who is overlooked,” he says, pointing around to the Roth exhibition as an example. “This is why we do historic shows — we’re creating a context,” he says. Actually selling art is another matter — the transactions increasingly take place at art fairs. “The problem you have with galleries is that there is no trigger point,” he says. “People just come and come again and then come again.”

*This article originally appeared in the February 11, 2013 issue of New York Magazine.

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http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2012/dec/16/hauser-wirth-art-gallery-somerset

Hauser & Wirth to open new art gallery in Somerset

Derelict farm will be converted into gallery and arts centre and is expected to attract 40,000 visitors a year

Hauser and Wirth Somerset artists impression, aerial view

An artist’s impression of Hauser & Wirth Somerset in Bruton. Photograph: Hayes Davidson

London! Zurich! New York! And now eight miles south of Shepton Mallet, convenient for the A303 and Bristol-Weymouth railway line. One of the world’s leading commercial galleries has revealed plans to expand its operations into what were derelict farm buildings in Somerset.

When galleries such as Hauser & Wirth announce expansion, it normally means a new space in Mayfair or Manhattan’s Meatpacking District, not what was, for centuries, a working farm in the middle of the English countryside.

The gallery said it would open its latest outpost on the edge of Bruton in the summer of 2014. “This is a beautiful part of the world and also a very creative part of the world,” said Alice Workman, who will be in charge of Hauser & Wirth Somerset. It will consist of a gallery and arts centre which “will serve the local community and town but also act on a national and international level”.

The gallery is expecting about 40,000 visitors a year and is an interesting development. While the public appetite for contemporary art seems to grow and grow, the chances of any publicly funded galleries being planned soon is remote. It could provide a model for other galleries to follow.

Somerset does not have any significant contemporary art galleries, said Workman. “We’ve got a great arts scene in Bath and Bristol but they are a good hour away.”

Planning permission was granted last week for a gallery and arts centre on what was originally built as a “model farm” dating back to 1760. There is a cowshed, a piggery, stables, barns, a farmhouse and land – but most of it is in a terrible state of disrepair with some buildings not safe to enter.

It could become something of a country retreat for Hauser & Wirth’s artists and the farm has already been visited by names such as Pipilotti Rist, Roni Horn, Phyllida Barlow and Paul McCarthy.

“Our artists are finding this a really exciting and inspiring project,” said Workman. “It is something really different.”

Hauser & Wirth was founded in Zurich in 1992 by Iwan and Manuela Wirth and Ursula Hauser, opening on Piccadilly in London in 2003 and the Upper East Side of Manhattan in 2009. It expanded again in 2010 when it opened a new London space on Savile Row.

Workman said there was no real template or model to follow, and the enterprise was something “completely new”.

The site, Durslade farm, lies on the edge of Bruton – about 30 minutes from Glastonbury – and is not far from the railway station so it will not only attract visitors in cars.

Piet Oudolf has designed the landscaping including a one-and-a-half-acre meadow garden.

Workman said the local support had been striking. One resident is the Grand Designs presenter Kevin McCloud, who said: “I’m excited that this magical town is being given such a shot in the arm in a way which is full of interesting promise. Art, architecture and cultural activity are not always the most common form of regeneration that small market towns see and it’s going to be interesting to chart how the wider pull of Hauser & Wirth Somerset will colour the atmosphere of Bruton. This project will bring culture from our cities into the rural world – one which I inhabit and love – and I’m particularly looking forward to the mix that it will generate.”

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http://www.wmagazine.com/w/blogs/thedailyw/2013/01/22/dieter-roth-and-bjorn-roth-at-hauser-and-wirth-chelsea.html

Don’t Miss: Dieter Roth at Hauser & Wirth

blog-dieter-rother-bjorn-roth-exhibition-01.jpg Installation view, ‘Dieter Roth. Björn Roth’, Hauser & Wirth New York NY, 2013“You like some Jägermeister?” asks Björn Roth, a Marlboro Red burning in an ashtray next to his coffee at half past noon on a recent afternoon. “It’s healthy.”Roth, the son and sometime collaborator of the late German-born Swiss art polymath Dieter Roth, is standing behind the bar he built — with the help of his sons, Oddur and Einar, and a retinue of assistants — for “Dieter Roth. Björn Roth,” the inaugural exhibition at Hauser & Wirth’s new mega-gallery in New York’s Chelsea, in the former Roxy roller rink-cum-nightclub on West 18th Street.  A majestic survey of the Roths’ three-decade meditation on the art-making process through accumulation, decadence, and decay, the show opens tomorrow though Björn Roth and company have been working since mid-December to install it. They have been filling Hauser & Wirth’s massive 25,000 square foot space with a suite of Dieter’s Clothes Pictures— paintings made with the late artist’s hand-tailored suits (he lost 75 pounds in the early 90s)— and two abstract murals painted on the white siding of portable classrooms in Aesche, Switzerland. “All the other buildings were sprayed with graffiti, but they had so much respect for Dieter they didn’t touch ours,” says Björn, who lives in Iceland, where he is working on some new pieces with his own son Oddur.But Dieter is never far from this thinking. Shortly before Dieter Roth died in 1998 at the age of 68, he asked Björn to imagine they were on a train ride.“If I get off on the next station, will you continue with the train?” he asked his son.He was not pressing me at all,” Björn says. “It was a question, and I said, ‘Of course’ because the only thing I know is to ride this train.”blog-dieter-rother-bjorn-roth-exhibition-03.jpgBjörn RothFor the New York show, Björn, in an homage to the Manhattan skyline,  is reprising Dieter’s chocolate and sugar factory with two ceiling-high towers, one of Guittard chocolate, the other of rainbow-hued sugar crystal busts of Dieter with human, lion and sphinx heads. “The funny thing is that you can’t use cheap chocolate, or it will break,” says Björn, grabbing a handful of wafers. “There’s not enough oil.”Anchoring the exhibition are two floors extracted in 1992 and 1998 from Roth’s Mosfellsbaer, Iceland studio and the ever-expanding process piece “Large Table Ruin” —made from three-decades worth of drills, hammers, work tables, film, projectors,paints, beer bottles, and lamps and various installation tools. “It doesn’t look like it, but it’s a very chronological piece,” says Björn, laughing. “This table is in high danger of getting glued. Though that would be sad because these are the spare bulbs for the projectors.” And while the 128-screen video installation “Solo Scenes,” a document of the last year of Dieter’s life, speaks —like so many Rothian pieces — to impermanence, the bar, made of bits of machinery (and a harpoon) from and old Icelandic whaling factory, candle sculptures, and relics of the old Roxy,  is intended to stay open for the life of the gallery.blog-dieter-rother-bjorn-roth-exhibition-07.jpg blog-dieter-rother-bjorn-roth-exhibition-05.jpgFrom top: Dieter Roth/ Björn Roth. Tischtuch mit Palmenbildern, 1986-1994; Installation view, ‘Dieter Roth. Björn Roth’, Hauser & Wirth New York NY, 2013

“I’ve had carte blanche,” says Björn of installing the show, conceding that this latest exhibition is rather spare compared to his first show with Hauser & Wirth in Zurich in 1998, a week before his father died. “It became a hangout for artists and all the guests were filmed,” he recalls. “I remember Paul McCarthy and Jason Rhoades having fun there. Christopher Wool came with his father. Urs Fischer worked there as a bartender. At that time he a young artist and probably needed the money and possibly he liked to [bartend].”

The original bar — and subsequent iterations — were meant to function as a cosmos in itself. But just because it’s a work of art doesn’t mean that you won’t be able to grab a drink. “Maybe we’ll fly in a braumeister from Germany for the opening, but it has to be done in the right way,” says Björn, pouring a second round of Jägermeister.  “A lot of people try to make their own beer and it tastes like vomit.”

blog-dieter-rother-bjorn-roth-exhibition-06.jpgThe bar at Hauser & Wirth

But imbibers beware: the Hauser & Wirth saloon (and all its patrons) will be filmed. As will the opening: guests will be invited todrive remote controlled cars outfitted with cameras to make short, ankle-level videos. Adds Roth. “They make really great films.”

Installation shots: © Dieter Roth Estate, courtesy Hauser & Wirth, photos: Bjarni Grímsson; Hauser & Wirth saloon: Diane Solway

January 22, 2013
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http://howtospendit.ft.com/style/3785-iwan-wirth-talks-personal-style

How To Spend It

A website of worldly pleasures from the Financial Times

Iwan Wirth talks personal style

Iwan Wirth set up Hauser & Wirth in 1992, and now has contemporary galleries in London, New York and Zurich.

February 16 2011
Emma Crichton-Miller

My personal style signifier is, apparently, my scarves. My wife, Manuela, was a great help here; she said I am “a scarf person”. I wear scarves because I fly so much and it is always warm, then cold, and I get a sore throat. I have them in all colours, fabrics, shapes; and I lose them quite regularly so I have to buy more. There is one from my friend Andi Stutz [owner of Fabric Frontline Zurich]; and whenever I go to visit Subodh Gupta, we seek out shops in New Delhi.

The last thing I bought and loved was a Swedish wood-splitting axe from the amazing German catalogue Manufactum. I love wood-chopping and I have a collection of axes. This one, called the Graensfors cleaving hammer (£111), is an art work. 0800-096 0938; www.manufactum.co.uk.

And the thing I am eyeing next is a “bella macchina” Berkel antique meat slicer, a high-quality industrial machine that slices your salami very thinly, safely. It’s very erotic. It really affects the quality of your food, and I am a food person. www.volanobiz.com/berkel-meat-slicers.htm.

The best souvenir I’ve brought home is an 18lb salmon from my first fishing trip to Iceland. I went with my friend Björn Roth, the son of Dieter Roth. It was late-season fishing and it was the only salmon I caught in four days. Bjorn told me to stuff it, so we did, and now it hangs in our kitchen.

The last item I added to my wardrobe was a bespoke suit from my neighbour in Savile Row, Kilgour. It’s dark-navy, single-breasted and made in light wool serge. I have walked up and down Savile Row 10,000 times over the past few months, as our new gallery took shape, and have been impressed by the construction of these suits. 8 Savile Row, London W1 (020-7283 8941; www.kilgour.eu).

My favourite room is the kitchen in our London house. The world stops at 6pm for our family dinner. When I am in town that is an iron rule, and so it is the most important room.

A recent find is a restaurant in Somerset called At The Chapel, run by Catherine Butler and Ahmed Sidki. It is a unique place – a bakery, a cultural centre, a pizza place and a grill. And also ­– completely different – the Duty Free Paul Smith shop at Heathrow’s Terminal 5. The older I get, the earlier I find I want to get to the airport, so I often have 30 minutes to kill. At The Chapel, High Street, Bruton, Somerset BA10 0AE (01749-814 070; www.atthechapel.co.uk). Paul Smith Globe, Departure Lounge, Heathrow Terminal 5 (020-8283 7066; www.paulsmith.co.uk).

The last music I downloaded was actually amassed by my staff – I got an iPod for my 40th birthday this year. They all downloaded their favourite tracks, from 1970s punk to classical; my own musical taste is embarrassingly ill-educated. I can listen as I drive to Somerset.

If I didn’t live in London, the city I would live in is Los Angeles. Firstly, because it would be the ultimate challenge to live a completely different life; LA is the absolute opposite side of the coin to London. Secondly, many of our artists live there, and it would be extraordinary to be closer to them. And there is no other place where nature and the urban are so interlinked – sea, desert and city.

An indulgence I’d never forego is St Galler bratwurst, which you can get in the Kronenhalle in Zurich – the role model for all other artists’ restaurants. Ramistrasse 4, Zurich, CH-8001 (+4144-262 9900; www.kronenhalle.com).

The books on my bedside table are Marcel Duchamp and the Forestay Waterfall, an extraordinary history of Marcel Duchamp and his final masterpiece, Étant donnés: 1° la chute d’eau, 2° le gaz d’éclairage. This was edited by a guy who worked for me once, and it has texts by every Duchamp specialist. And another that’s completely different: The King of Oil: The Secret Lives of Marc Rich by Daniel Ammann, a present from my Zurich director. Rich is an interesting character and a great art collector.

My favourite website is Education City, a website for my children to do revision. It keeps me up to date with their curriculum. www.educationcity.com

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http://www.ft.com/intl/cms/s/2/3869049a-21ae-11df-acf4-00144feab49a.html#axzz2QBjeIduG

February 27, 2010 12:22 am

Hauser & Wirth’s latest expansion

By Georgina Adam

Iwan Wirth in his newest London gallery spaceIwan Wirth in his newest London gallery space

With his round glasses and curly dark hair, Iwan Wirth looks a bit like a grown-up Harry Potter. Highly focused and energetic, the Swiss art dealer, at just 39 years old, is one of the most influential and successful players in the market. His gallery, Hauser & Wirth, has outlets in Zurich, New York and London, with an artist roster that includes such established names as Roni Horn, Louise Bourgeois, Joan Mitchell, the estates of Lee Lozano, Eva Hesse, Dieter Roth and the Henry Moore family collection, alongside emerging artists such as David Zink Yi or Zhang Enli. A recent coup has been the acquisition, with New York dealer David Zwirner, of a large part of the Lauffs collection of minimal and conceptual art, some of which will be exhibited at Hauser & Wirth’s stand at the Maastricht fair next month.

Wirth opened his first art gallery at 16, at a time when he was still using the school telephone to make calls. A significant moment was meeting Manuela, daughter of the wealthy collector Ursula Hauser, in his 20s; he married Manuela and the three founded Hauser & Wirth in Zurich in 1992. By 2000 Wirth was forging ahead – a joint partnership in New York with David Zwirner was followed by the opening of a London gallery in a Lutyens-designed former bank at 196 Piccadilly in 2003. He then expanded into Shoreditch in the east end of London with a project space, Coppermill, which hosted keynote shows by Paul McCarthy, Martin Creed and Christoph Büchel; he moved out of Coppermill in 2007. The joint gallery with David Zwirner has ended, although the two dealers continue to collaborate, and H&W has its own space in New York.

Now H&W is opening its biggest space yet, in the heart of London’s West End. The 15,000 square foot, column-free gallery with six metre ceilings, divided into two parts, will be inaugurated this autumn with a major show devoted to Louise Bourgeois, who celebrates her 100th birthday next year. It is currently being refitted by architect Annabelle Selldorf.

We meet in the upstairs floor in Old Bond Street above the famed Red Room of the Old Master dealer Colnaghi, which H&W uses for contemporary shows once or twice a year. Piled high on the table are artists’ books – supporting the gallery artists through publishing catalogues and books is an important but lesser-known aspect of the gallery’s work.

Does the decision to open another space in London say something about the position of the British capital at the heart of the art market? I ask. “London had expanded so rapidly in the previous few years, and it was specialised in younger material which was worst hit,” he answers. “But now the London market is back on track, and the Giacometti price is a sign of this. Also, my experience is that non-American collectors now hesitate travelling to the US, they just don’t want to go through that hassle, they prefer to come to London.”

“For us, London is close to Switzerland where we have a strong collector base, a strong artist base. And then we are European, in the sense of doing business in an old-fashioned way.” He laughs: “When we went to New York I said we were the Aga of galleries,” referring to his traditional, methodical Swiss approach, “but they totally failed to understand, they don’t have Agas [old-fashioned range-style cookers] there … ”

We are speaking the day after Giacometti’s “L’Homme qui Marche I” (1961) achieved over £65m just up the road, at Sotheby’s. What does that price mean? I ask. “It is one of the rarest and most iconic trophies that you can have, I was never offered a Walking Man,” he says, “And at last sculpture has also found its rightful place – I always thought it was under-valued, but no more.” En passant, he gives credit to the auction houses for their managing of the art market downturn. “I’m quite impressed how they steered through the storm,” he says. “They did a very good job of re-instilling confidence. Of course they were also partly responsible for the excesses of the boom as well!”

During the downturn, art galleries were getting the upper hand as vendors became more hesitant to risk their works of art at auction and were more likely to sell them through dealers. I ask Wirth if the recent huge prices change this. “I’m afraid the Giacometti price will tip the balance back again in favour of the auction houses,” he says. “We had a buyer’s market, but it didn’t feel like a buyer’s market any more at Sotheby’s sale,” he says.

Whether or not the pendulum will swing back, Wirth is convinced that his position on both on the primary and secondary markets is the most successful business model for a gallery. “It is a balance, but operating on the secondary market makes very long-term investments in the careers of certain artists possible. The cycles are far more extreme if you just do primary,” he says.

We walk over to the new space in Saville Row, of which he is obviously proud. One side consists of a vast raw space, with no columns; Wirth stands obediently in the centre, admiring the bare breezeblock walls while being photographed. Is it true that he always shows a new space to his artists before making a final decision? “Absolutely! I see them very much as part of the family, I love building galleries!” he says. “It’s great to create these spaces for art, with artists. Sometimes an artist might show for 15 years in the same gallery, and a new space stimulates them.”

Wirth is known to be very close to his artists, who range in age from 30-year-old Polish artist Jakub Julian Ziolkowski to Louise Bourgeois at 98. I ask him if this is easy. “I started out so young, everyone was older than me!” he says. “30 or 60 were the same to me then, and actually it never occurs to me to think about the age of the artists, I just look at the art.”

“The art market is at its most interesting moment for a very long time because for the first time it is truly global,” he says. He has another appointment and with Swiss punctuality is anxious not to be late. In conclusion I ask if he has any more expansion plans. “No” he says, waving good-bye. “But then I always say that – until I find another space.”

www.hauserwirth.com——–

GQ Louise Bourgeois

Louise Bourgeois

The rise of Swiss gallery Hauser & Wirth has been characterised by a quiet modesty some might interpret as stealth. “For those who’ve been watching, we’ve achieved a great deal,” says the gallery’s London director, Gregor Muir. “Hauser & Wirth may appear to some as an emerging gallery, but in fact it is one of the largest operations in the world.”

On 14 October, Hauser & Wirth opens the doors of its newest London space in the middle of Mayfair, on what was once the site of the English Heritage HQ. Designed by architect Eric Parry, it was recommended by its agent David Rosen at Pilcher Hershman, for its “New York factory” appeal. “This is the joy of London,” says Muir. “Finding this space was so unexpected.”

Opening night is scheduled during Frieze Art Fair, to be witnessed by everyone who is anyone on the global art scene, and the inaugural show will be Louise Bourgeois: The Fabric Works (“Untitled” 2007, pictured), a museum exhibition that comes straight from the Vedova Foundation in Venice. Many of the works are being shown for the first time, some of which have been lent by the Hauser family. Meanwhile, at Hauser & Wirth’s flagship gallery in Piccadilly, a Jason Rhoades show runs in tandem. For his 2005 exhibition, Black Pussy… And The Pagan Idol Workshop, Rhoades filled the former bank with flea-market junk and hung the place with 427 neon words, all euphemisms for vagina. He said he drew his inspiration from Mecca. So we can believe Muir when he says, “October will be an all-singing, all-dancing month for Hauser & Wirth.”

Now may seem like an odd time to be expanding an international art business, but this family-run outfit has always launched new galleries in dire circumstances. Iwan Wirth teamed up with his wife, Manuela Hauser and her mother, Ursula, to form their eponymous gallery, launching in Zurich in 1992, during the last recession and accompanying art-world slump. They opened their first London space in 2003, in a cultural and economic climate still reeling from 9/11, and at a moment when London’s top gallerist, Anthony d’Offay, had created shockwaves
by closing his space to become an “armchair dealer”. While the Establishment played it safe with bestsellers or retired to the sofa with its pipe and slippers, Hauser & Wirth moved into the grandiose ramparts of an Edward Lutyens-designed building opposite the Royal Academy and showed big, difficult, non-commercial, art.

It was all very impressive and smacked of authenticity, a rare commodity on the contemporary art scene, but who were these Swiss people with their good taste and bottomless funds? Such questions ricocheted around the velvet upholstery of antiquated London nightspot Tramp, during Hauser & Wirth’s discreet launch party. “Eight years on, people still don’t quite know,” says Muir. “I sit here and wonder when the penny will drop and they’ll realise Iwan isn’t just one of the biggest gallerists in London, but in the world.” Wirth has been placed in the top 20 of Art Review‘s Power 100 list every year since 2003, so I think they may have an inkling; he was No.11 in 2009, compared to Larry Gagosian’s No.5. What people really want to know is if Wirth’s muted yet meteoric rise is a threat to Gagosian, the man we all take to be the most powerful art dealer in the world.

In 2009, just as this recession got under way, Hauser & Wirth continued its expansion, this time to New York. Iwan Wirth already inhabited the building as half of the secondary market dealer, Zwirner & Wirth; but its new incarnation, as a large-scale, high-performance primary market gallery, was described by art commentator Robert Ayers as “an act of inspired art historical chutzpah”. They opened with legendary Sixties artist Allan Kaprow, inventor of the “happening”, who first produced his installation “Yard” in the same building, in 1961. Was this a red rag to New York-based Gagosian, or are comparisons missing the point? After all, Kaprow is no Jeff Koons, Gagosian’s bestselling, porn-star loving, figurehead artist. This is earnest stuff with no eye for fashion or sales. The closest Wirth gets to “the great male artist” is Paul McCarthy, known for his gigantic Disneyesque figures including “Gnome Buttplug” (Santa holding a sex aid), made for the City of Rotterdam, 2001. But McCarthy’s work is also rooted in the non-commercial “happening”: he performed psychosexual acts such as “Class Fool” (1976), in which he hurled himself about in a classroom splattered with ketchup until he was bruised and confused. He threw up, put a Barbie doll up his rectum and only stopped when the audience could take no more.

“Hauser & Wirth is a different type of model, unlike any other gallery,” says Muir. “We’re not just selling a product. Our focus is artists and they are unusual, distinctive people.” The right kind of space is intrinsic to the Hauser & Wirth vision, Muir tells me. Its acquisition of the cavernous Coppermill depot off Brick Lane in London led to shows such as Cristoph Büchel’s Simply Botiful exhibition (2006), for which the artist built sets of a sweatshop, recycling camp, a hotel/brothel and an import-export shop; visitors clambered up ladders and through dirt tunnels. In Turner Prize-winner Martin Creed’s 2007 show at the Coppermill, viewers were plunged into blackness save for a screen showing a penis sliding in and out of a woman’s anus to a slow, rhythmic beat; for the opening, this was accompanied by a live orchestra. The Labour government called Coppermill an outstanding rejuvenation project but was unable to halt the eventual destruction of the building, hence the three-year-search for a comparable space, ending with Savile Row.

The money for all this, one assumes, comes from the secondary market, buying and selling Modern Masters at auction and at art fairs such as the European Fine Art Fair (TEFAF). This is not the glossy, social world of contemporary art galleries such as White Cube and Gagosian; it is the domain of some of the highest net-worth individuals on the planet, “people who don’t make a noise,” says Muir. “Iwan isn’t social, he has another agenda.” It is a world familiar to the Hauser family, however, whose private art collection is housed in a railway-shed museum outside Zurich, which also contains studios, a library and archives. They collected Louise Bourgeois for more than 20 years before her death last year. Not born to collecting like his wife, Iwan Wirth had nevertheless started his first gallery by the age of 16. The opening hours were Wednesday afternoons and weekends, to fit in with his school timetable. Who knows where his love of art came from, but his father climbs mountains and there is a sense that Wirth’s phenomenal drive, steady climb and expansive vision form a sort of conceptual mountaineering. He is hands-on with his artists, loves travelling with them and displays an energy that would put most 20-year-olds to shame. Then again, he is only 40, quarter of a century younger than Gagosian and younger, too, than Jay Jopling and his YBAs.

Hauser & Wirth

Opens
14 October

Exhibits
Louise Bourgeois, Paul McCarthy, Martin Creed

Where
23 Savile Row, London W1

Contact
hauserwirth.com

Originally published in the October 2010 issue of British GQ.

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http://newamericanpaintings.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/anj-smith-at-hauser-wirth/

Anj Smith at Hauser & Wirth

by New American Paintings

February 12, 2013, 8:30 am
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Portraits by the British artist Anj Smith appear at first glance to be those of young women. But careful viewing reveals elements that throw their portrayal of femininity into question—a few strands of facial hair, an Adam’s apple. Smith says the ambiguity is intentional, and that she was inspired to investigate issues of gender in her work by a close friend who recently underwent gender reassignment surgery. Her paintings are at once radical explorations of identity and sexuality, fused with a painting practice that has its roots in a fifteenth-century aesthetic and technique, a striking contrast that invigorates her work.

All of the eleven paintings on view at Hauser & Wirth in New York are small, but painted in intricate detail. At times Smith’s brushstrokes are scarcely detectable as hairline traces across her canvases. In other instances her brushstrokes are not detectable at all, as she has seamlessly created porcelain complexions and diaphanous textiles using an oil technique only achieved by true painting masters. It takes the artist six to nine months to create each painting, but the complexity of each piece succeeds in creating scenes that are surreal and alluring, well worth her time-consuming efforts. - Nadiah Fellah, NYC Contributor

High Blue Country
Anj Smith | High Blue Country, 2012, Oil on linen, 14 1/4 x 11 in
Girl in Glass
Anj Smith | Portrait of a Girl in Glass, 2012, Oil on linen, 18 1/2 x 15 3/4 x 1 in

The Moon Like A Flower

Anj Smith | The moon, like a flower, 2012, Oil on linen, 14 1/8 x 11 1/4 in

Among the many tediously-depicted details in each painting—common elements of which are insects, reptiles, monkeys, jewelry, flowers, cigarette butts—is Smith’s portrayal of each figure’s hair, richly highlighted, and which is intricately woven into braids and knots, adorned with feathers and fabric. That the tendrils seem to take on a life of their own is contrasted by the figures’ sullen or lifeless expressions, many shown in a three-quarter profile, another motif tying the artist’s work to a Flemish or Dutch painting tradition.

Fruits of Forest
Anj Smith | Fruits of the Forest, 2012, Oil on linen, 19 5/8 x 16 7/8 x 1 in
Fruits of Forest (detail)
Anj Smith | Fruits of the Forest (detail), 2012, Oil on linen, 19 5/8 x 16 7/8 x 1 in

Further conjuring Northern Renaissance masters like Jan Van Eyck is Smith’s use of symbolism, like the skulls so often seen in devotional paintings as momento mori, or reminders of the viewer’s mortality. However, she has written that, “symbols no longer stand for fixed intentions and a skull can mean pretty much anything…I feel those old defunct symbols retain a kind of ‘half-life’ meaning, a vestige of their purpose. As their original content decays in the present, they still suggest something to us, even if that ‘something’ is less clear and is morphing into something else.” The artist’s reimagined context for these symbols can be seen in her placement of an Alexander McQueen knuckleduster ring in the painting Fruits of the Forest, which features skulls in its design. The traditional symbol of mortality thus becomes one associated with consumerism and luxury, blurring the line between its traditional use in painting and the popular currency its gained as a fashionable icon. In another painting, New Blooms at the Ossuary, a crevice below ground and the decaying side of ghostly sea vessel reveal caches of skulls, each precisely rendered in detail. The artist’s myriad use of the motif in this instance borders on the absurd, taking the singular use of something meant to convey religious reflection, and repeating it until it becomes virtually meaningless.

New Blooms
Anj Smith | New Blooms At The Ossuary, 2012, Oil on linen, 22 x 27 1/2 x 7/8 in
New Blooms (detail)
Anj Smith | New Blooms At The Ossuary (detail), 2012, Oil on linen, 22 x 27 1/2 x 7/8 in

Although Smith’s paint handling is generally uniform and smooth, she departs from this method in her depiction of uneven terrain. By building up the oil on the canvas, parts of her paintings become almost sculptural, projecting off the surface of the work in high impasto to suggest a rocky texture. This technique is used in The Sentry, a picture of an androgynous reclining nude, whose gender is kept mysterious by a swatch of red fabric extending from the groin. Although the figure wears dark lip rouge and a flapper-style headband, closer observation reveals a barely-detectable layer of hair that covers the figure’s arms and legs, each strand rendered in painstaking detail. Despite the painting’s title, it is unclear what this figure guards, leaving one to contemplate its literal or allegorical meaning.

The Sentry
Anj Smith | The Sentry, 2012, Oil on linen, 18 1/8 x 15 3/8 x 7/8 in

The dark and whimsical nature of these works creates an aesthetic that is distinct, while displaying the artist’s ongoing engagement with the history and tradition of painting. In their careful rendering and rich, saturated colors, Smith’s paintings in themselves become like the priceless objects that are depicted within them. It is telling that the paintings in this show were sold almost immediately. Each tiny scene is an endless expanse of visual imagery and symbolism, and one could spend several moments tracing the minute details in her landscapes and portraits. Within each work are also remnants of popular culture and contemporary fashion that reward a meticulous eye. For this reason, Smith’s paintings are best experienced in person, where their sumptuousness and complexity can be fully appreciated.

Ziggy
Anj Smith | Ziggy, 2012, Oil on linen, 16 7/8 x 15 3/8 x 7/8 in

Anj Smith: The Flowering of Phantoms is on view at Hauser & Wirth in New York through February 23rd.

Anj Smith was born in Kent, England in 1978 and studied painting at the Slade School of Fine Art and Goldsmith College, both in London. Since 2003 she has had multiple international shows, in Europe, India, Thailand, and the US. Smith currently lives and works in London.

Nadiah Fellah is a graduate student of Art History at The Graduate Center, CUNY in New York.

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http://www.nytimes.com/2006/12/03/magazine/03chapman.html?_r=0

Fair Players

The Dealer

By ALICE RAWSTHORN
Published: December 3, 2006

Imagine that you’rean art dealer, and when you ask one of your artists for a work to sell at the Frieze Art Fair, he presents you with a thousand copies of Hitler’s “Mein Kampf” in Arabic. What do you do? If you’re Iwan Wirth, you place those books smack in the middle of your booth, just as the artist, the Swiss sculptor Christoph Büchel, wanted. Did he ever consider just saying no? “Absolutely not!” Wirth insists. “But after the piece sold, we removed it. People were stealing the books. Why would anyone want to walk around an art fair with a copy of ‘Mein Kampf?’ ”

Julian Broad for The New York Times

Irwin Wirth, above the fray, in his booth at the Frieze Art Fair.

Readers’ Opinions

Looking like a grown-up Harry Potter with unruly curls and a hearty laugh, Wirth, 36, has become one of the most powerful players in contemporary art since founding the gallery Hauser & Wirth with his wife, Manuela, and mother-in-law, Ursula Hauser, in their native Switzerland in 1992. They now have outposts in Zurich and New York, as well as three gallery spaces in London, where he and Manuela live with their four children. Frieze, now in its fourth year, is Britain’s biggest art fair, drawing 152 galleries and some 63,000 visitors. It is also a highlight of Wirth’s business year. “It’s the center of gravity of the London art scene,” he says in his singsong Swiss accent, “thrilling, exciting and completely exhausting.”

Juggling the roles of curator, construction mogul, psychologist, entrepreneur and nanny, Wirth had a frenzied Frieze week in October. After presiding over the opening of a palatial new gallery on Old Bond Street, he gave a beer-and-sausage party to celebrate an installation by Büchel at his cavernous East London project space. Then there was the premiere of “Sick Film,” by the British artist Martin Creed. Wirth also had to buy for collectors at the London auctions that week, where he hoped to bag a Peter Doig painting for Hauser & Wirth’s own collection. After all of that, in addition to taking his children to school each morning, he still had several million dollars’ worth of art to sell at the fair.

Born in eastern Switzerland to an architect father and schoolteacher mother, Wirth got the art bug at 7, when he staged his first show — copies of Giacometti and Henry Moore sculptures he made himself. “I sold them for 75 francs,” he remembers proudly. Wirth opened a commercial gallery in their village at 16 and set up as a private dealer in Zurich in 1990. There he met Manuela, the daughter of a wealthy Swiss family. Together they acquired an ambitious contemporary-art collection for her mother and established Hauser & Wirth. Their artists include Europeans like Isa Genzken, Andreas Hofer and Pipilotti Rist, although Wirth has a penchant for “big boy” U.S. sculptors like Paul McCarthy and the late Jason Rhoades. He is equally excited about Büchel, whose East London show included a replica of an illegal industrial recycling plant. “When you meet a great artist like Paul, Jason or Christoph, you just know,” Wirth says. “There’s a particular type of energy — and they need a big gallery like ours to support them.”

That support comes from his secondary market, which generates most of Hauser & Wirth’s turnover. Like his rivals, Larry Gagosian and Jay Jopling, Wirth is an ace salesman. Having set new records at each of the first three Frieze fairs, he had high expectations for 2006. Wirth says that the frenzy of the fairs has transformed the art market, by replicating the buzz of the auction room and spurring even veteran collectors into making impulse purchases. “If people have time to decide, they’ll take it,” he observes. “The miracle of the art fair is that they don’t.”

By the second day of Frieze, almost all of the art in Hauser & Wirth’s booth has been sold, including a $480,000 McCarthy sculpture. The Old Bond Street gallery had opened smoothly, as had Creed’s film, although Büchel’s factory installation proved trickier. Local officials panicked at possible safety risks, and then a truck crashed into a sign outside. But his only disappointment was being outbid for the Doig painting at auction. “It was a beauty,” Wirth lamented. “My limit was £600,000, but I went up to £800,000, and someone bid £820,000. I tell collectors to set a limit and stick to it, but that’s what happens. It’s like a doctor telling his patients not to smoke and being a terrible smoker himself.”

Alice Rawsthorn is the design critic for The International Herald Tribune.


http://www.theartnewspaper.com/articles/Hauser–Wirth-to-open-in-New-York/17434

Hauser & Wirth to open in New York

Gallery hopes to buck the downturn with transatlantic expansion

By Charmaine Picard. Market, Issue 203, June 2009
Published online: 27 May 2009

NEW YORK. Hauser & Wirth is opening a gallery space in New York in September as part of its long-term strategy to increase US market share. The gallery will expand its Zurich- and London-based operations at a time when shrinking demand for contemporary art has led several galleries to close international branches and others to cut staff.

“Everybody is looking at costs, and so are we,” said gallery owner Iwan Wirth. He added: “The art market has shrunk, but we made a decision one year ago that if there’s one place we want to be, and need to be, for the next 20 years it’s New York.”

The space will be located on the first four floors of the Upper East Side townhouse currently occupied by Zwirner & Wirth gallery. The six-story building, which was purchased by Ursula Hauser in 1997, is the site of the former Martha Jackson Gallery where Allan Kaprow installed his famed work Yard in 1961. The gallery, which represents the artist’s estate, will recreate the installation for its inaugural exhibition. Mr Wirth told The Art Newspaper: “Many of our artists, like Allan Kaprow, Paul McCarthy, Eva Hesse and Roni Horn, have no gallery representation in New York. We have great relationships in America and we want to shorten the distances.” Hauser & Wirth partner Marc Payot will run day-to-day operations at the New York outpost.

Although Mr Wirth will no longer share a space with New York dealer David Zwirner, the pair will continue their collaboration in the secondary market. Meanwhile, Mr Zwirner will also open a new space on 19th Street in Chelsea this September, in a building designed by Shigeru Ban, whose new Centre Pompidou-Metz opens next year.

According to Mr Wirth: “The good thing about the moment is there are lots of opportunities—you get great staff and great works of art with more realistic prices. It’s a buyer’s market.”
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http://www.artinamericamagazine.com/news-opinion/the-scene/2013-01-23/hauser-and-wirth-new-space-chelsea/

Hauser and Wirth Opens Giant New Gallery in Chelsea

by Brian Boucher 01/23/13

International powerhouse gallery Hauser and Wirth makes a dramatic addition to its list of locations (Zurich, London, New York’s Upper East Side) this week, when its mammoth new space opens at 511 West 18th St. in Chelsea. A.i.A. attended a press preview Monday.

The new space’s debut comes less than two weeks after the row of small galleries on West 27th Street finally re-opened after Super-storm Sandy. Situated on the second floor, the new facility was unaffected.

View Slideshow Installation view, ‘Dieter Roth. Björn Roth’, Hauser & Wirth New York NY, 2013 © Dieter Roth Estate Courtesy Hauser & Wirth Photo: Bjarni Grímsson; Dieter Roth Grosse Tischruine (Large Table Ruin) (with Björn Roth & Eggert Einarsson) Begun 1978 Mixed media installation Dimensions variable Installation view, ‘Dieter Roth. Björn Roth’, Hauser & Wirth New York, 18th Street, New York NY, 2013 © Dieter Roth Estate Courtesy Hauser & Wirth Photo: Bjarni Grímsson;

“Dieter Roth. Björn Roth” (Jan. 23–Apr. 13) is the first exhibition on West 18th Street, and it includes installations, sculpture, video and prints by the father-and-son team, about half the works on loan from the Dieter Roth Foundation, Hamburg. Featured are more than 100 objects, created since the 1970s, some never before shown in the States.

As Hauser and Wirth’s Marc Payot told A.i.A. during a preview visit this fall, “Roth represents a kind of father figure for many of the artists we represent, in that his work is process-oriented and often collaborative, as well as highly complex and multilayered.” A gallery press release points out that Roth’s work sprung from a central concept of the indivisibility of art and life.

Visitors are greeted in the entryway by a site-specific, permanent work by Martin Creed, in which vertical stripes of colorful duct tape of various designs adorn the wall of the stairway that leads up to the second-floor space to the reception desk.

There, visitors turn a corner into a nearly 25,000-square-foot, column-free, sky-lit space under wood ceilings supported by black steel trusses. New York architect Annabelle Selldorf oversaw the design of the new facility, which is in the former home of the Roxy discotheque. It neighbors the High Line elevated park and Frank Gehry’s building for the IAC headquarters.

Large parts of the space are perfumed with the scent of chocolate, from Selbstturm (Self Tower), 1994/2013, a giant column of busts made out of chocolate, stacked on glass shelves in a metal frame, whose production continued in the gallery, with two young men cooking up the chocolate and carving the busts. “There are two-men teams working in 12-hour shifts,” the gallery’s Michael Hall told A.i.A.

Björn Roth led a walkthrough of the show Monday, explaining the genesis of two gigantic works, The Floor I (1973-1992) and The Floor II (1977-1998), that are actual floors from studios Roth occupied, displayed upright in the manner of a painting.

“The idea of the floor paintings came in 1992,” he said, when they had a large wall to fill in an exhibition. He pointed out where a section of the floor had been cut out to accommodate a door in that wall, saying with a smile, “we had to cut a door in the floor.”

Standing in front of some paintings made from tablecloths, he noted that “most works in the show are made from materials that had some other life.” The paintings are dated with huge spans of time, like Tischtuch mit Gechirrbildern (1987-94). “His philosophy was that you don’t do much at any one time,” he said, speaking of his father. “When I look at these paintings, every line brings memories from different times.”

Memorabilia from the Roxy adorns a café/bar created by Björn, who often collaborated with his father to create bars, and Björn’s son Oddur, whose name, he explained to A.i.A., is Icelandic for the point of a spear. “The business end,” he added with a mischievous smile.

“Some staffers had birthdays during the installation, which we celebrated here,” Hall pointed out, “and you can still see leftover cake in the glass-fronted filing cabinets above the bar.”

“Those are American-made cabinets,” Oddur told A.i.A., “which were exported to Iceland maybe 50 years ago, and which we found as scrap and brought back to the States. Scrap always has a history. And we live off of it. Or,” he asked philosophically, taking another drag on his cigarette, “does it live off of us?”

Oddur was standing in the bar, near a large glass cabinet in which scraps of paper were whirling around. “That’s a shredder for tearing up bad reviews,” he said with a meaningful glance at an art critic standing nearby.

Paris Based Algerian Conceptual Artist’s Adel Abdessemed’s Poetics of Violence

Adel Abdessemed work seems to not only want to make naked the tragic and the terrible in the world, but to create and use the works as a kind of counter-force in opposition to and against the real. From his most recent work of making a barbed wire chair of a seat of power found in Westminster Abbey, to showcasing airplanes turned up like bananas, he seems to be saying that by doing what he is doing in art, he can be a certain type of master, he can create and or destroy or merely show acts of creation and/or destruction, just like life itself. Evidence of this is seen in his photograph where he appears to be on fire with his arms folded as if in an act of total defiance against the order and disorder of the world. How can I accept that his work is exclusively focused on the unreal realities of violence and sometimes blind human cruelty, perhaps he is seeking a cure to the impossible. Yet I myself have made the claim on multiple occasions that it is Literature than has changed human consciousness, and it is a higher art that is able to come into the world because of this heightened state of positive consciousness. What does this mean for the current production of Conceptual Art by fabrication and machine?What would happen if it were determined that yes, add more of these forms of images into the world, and the world will be made more whole or even completely whole, free of violence, full of love. Which would be that all human beings act at their highest levels of being, as versus sink into mindlessness madness without even a consideration of the effects on the world and all of time.

Vincent Johnson in Los Angeles

http://www.vincentjohnsonart.com

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Adel Abdessemed
Adel Abdessemed
Adel Abdessemed

Adel Abdessemed Soldaten, 2013
Charcoal on paper

Adel Abdessemed
“Le Vase abominable”
Installation view, David Zwirner, London
22 February – 30 March 2013
© Adel Abdessemed – Photo: all rights reserved
Courtesy David Zwirner, London / New York

Art Review: Adel Abdessemed @ David Zwirner

By · February 23, 2013 at 12:00 pm ·
Installation view of the 2013 solo exhibition Adel Abdessemed: Le Vase abominable at David Zwirner, London.

Though this exhibition is based across two floors it essentially boils down to three installations, all revolving around the central theme of war and conflict. Downstairs we have a large copper pot sat atop what appears to be a large bomb, complete with gas cylinders and sticks of dynamite.

Upstairs we find ‘Cri’, a life size replica of the famous image of Vietnamese children fleeing a napalm attack.

Lastly we have a video of labyrinthine smears across four walls as a homage to the HM Maze Prison hunger strike where prisoners smeared the walls with their excrement. It’s fast paced and erratic to project the intensity of this event but feels at odds with what was in fact a lengthy and slow protest.

Adel Abdessemed: Le Vase Abominable is on at David Zwirner, 24 Grafton Street, W1S 4EZ until 30 March. Admission is free

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  • Adel Abdessemed
  • Posted 31 months ago by Jack Lowe · Art & Design · 4002 Views
  • In 1994, artist Adel Abdessemed fled his homeland Algeria to escape the increasing instability and Islamist violence.

    www.davidzwirner.com

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Moscow, 2010© — Credit line: © Adel Abdessemed, ADAGP Paris 2012 Courtesy the artist and David Zwirner New York/London
Hand-blown glass 1 pair of skates installed

Adel Abdessemed

Interview by
Paul Ardenne

Paul Ardenne: Love can help pacify things…

Adel Abdessemed: The negative and the positive co-exist in violence. The violence or impact of a work of art is always positive, as it never leaves us. My images are not closed. They are multilinear and can be understood on various different levels. I like works to have a lost corner, a freedom corner, a blind corner….

Paul Ardenne: Whatever his medium, an artist adds matter to the world because he lives with a feeling of inadequacy. I would express a slight reservation about what you say. You profile a work of art as tearing the veil from Isis – in order, as you put it, to empty the pond and ‘find the fish.’ But the therapeutic side to artistic creation, as shown by Freud and many others, is also a pacifying process. Even if a work is violent in itself, it always leads to a situation being pacified. There are works, as you know, which deliberately belong to the repertoire of calm and harmony, like Picasso’s Joie de Vivre – even though it dates from the violent period just after World War II and the discovery of its horrific death-toll. There was widespread rationing, people were traumatized, we were going through a crisis of humanism, and the Cold War was looming. Yet when you look at this work, or at Matisse’s Blue Nude, we verge on the repertoire of the sublime; the viewer is drawn into an instant annihilation of reality, with a feeling of triumphant, blessed idealism. Artists whose work is more to do with global harmony, and its links with salvation, create a visual world that is radically different from yours, but ultimately just as effective. I say this because you’re often criticized for the violence inherent in your work – a  violence that implies that, if you don’t put the violence of the world into your work, then that work is worthless. Take those two metal circles you made, with diameters the same as your height and that of your partner Julie (Wall Drawing, 2006): the circles were in barbed wire! You’ve used live animals in your work – but only after tearing them away from their natural habitat, and throwing them into the alien world of humans. In Mexico, you filmed animals being slaughtered (Don’t Trust Me, 2007). You hung crucified Christs, made of barbed wire, alongside the Issenheim Altarpiece in Colmar – an Expressionist work from the darkest period of the Late Middle Ages, a period racked by recurrent outbreaks of plague and a violent religious crisis that led to the Reformation. You were really beating the drum – irrespective of the title you gave the work (Décor). A décor of violence, then? Personally, I admire your work as an artist. But, Lord knows, I like calm works too…!

Adel Abdessemed: To me, Barnett Newman’s work is very violent.

Paul Ardenne: Perhaps what you find violent are his colour oppositions on large surfaces…

Adel Abdessemed: It’s the void he leaves that I find violent. To me, a work of art should only exist through tension. It should be all about the force of compression, as when I crush a lemon and the juice spurts out (Pressoir Fais-Le, 2002). A work does not need to justify itself. The comments that surround it are not enough. My comments about my work will never say more than my work itself. In fact, I often speak next to my works, to avoid speaking about them.

Paul Ardenne: We need to build a home for mankind.Adel Abdessemed: I see no difference between a home and a path.

Published — Lundi 24, 2012

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Adel Abdessemed: “I am innocent”

From 03-October-2012 to 07-January-2013

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Adel Abdessemed,

Adel Abdessemed, “I am innocent”

Since his appearance on the art scene in about 2000, Adel Abdessemed’s work has been fuelled by the disaster of contemporary history. The artist uses the language of art to reclaim the forces of violence and destruction: the plaited aeroplanes of Telle mère tel fils [Like Mother Like Son] (2008) or the folded fuselage of Bourek (2005) recall the trauma of the attack on 11 September 2001 with which the century began, the blackened terracotta car bodies of Practice ZERO TOLERANCE (2006) are the vestiges of the urban riots that shook the French suburbs in the Spring of 2005 ; the rows of barbed wire punctuated by double-sided blades and sharpened points of Wall Drawing (2006) refers to the logic of imprisonment (Guantanamo Bay) and territorial division…

- See more at: http://www.contemporaryart.com/centre-georges-pompidou/adel-abdessemed-i-am-innocent/#sthash.2fKjWC4h.dpuf

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Articles

NEWS

The Butcher: A Q&A With Controversial Artist Adel Abdessemed
By Juliette Soulez, ARTINFO France

How do you go about creating your artworks?

Kippenberger said “not having a style isn’t my style.” I work, I don’t wait. I work like Brecht with a center for the work, meaning that I organise things and create a hypnotic center. I am very fast but at the same time the image itself is slow. Sometimes it takes me three years to finish a piece. Then, when I find my axis, everything happens very quickly. I can share it, I can free myself in some way. Images are internal prisons and with them you liberate yourself, you make your cage bigger. Metaphor would be a nightmare. A nightmare is human, all too human. And, as Baudelaire said, images can sometimes strike hard without hatred, like the butcher. Through my work, I give more than I have. An artist gives everything. The artist is like a gambler, he gives everything he has.

Have your travels had an impact on your work?

Cities have always influenced me. I am like Joyce‘s Ulysses. As soon as I’ve moved in, I’m already moving out. Once I have my third pair of shoes, I have to leave. I like leaving my comfort zone. I just came back from two years in New York, which is an extraordinary city with an incredible density and one of the most beautiful populations in the world. Claude Levi-Strauss stayed in this city for a long time, he let himself get completely emptied out and absorbed. But I’ve also lived in Berlin. My second studio was in Mitte. In Paris, the street I worked with was Lemercier Street. And in New York, it was Belfort Street. I am like a detective who is gathering evidence of a crime.

What role do death and violence play in your work? Innocence is violent, sleeping is violent, and giving birth is, too. I don’t know of anything that isn’t violent, except my soul. I always say that we have to be born, love, think, and die. Death as guilt is not the subject of my work. There is nothing negative, unlike what Christian art produces. Panofsky actually wrote a wonderful essay about the pain associated with death. For me, death can be a path, and eternity is a house. The paths lead to the house and vice-versa. So the question would actually be: which is more difficult, death or eternity?

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In The Studio: Adel Abdessemed, artist

‘When I make a line I make it like a scalpel. Drawings like cuts’

Saturday 24 November 2012

Adel Abdessemed lives in the increasingly fashionable area near the canal St Martin in Paris. His studio is below the flat where he lives with his wife and four young daughters; he says he needs to have his work and his family close together. The girls are always in the studio – “one may be doing a drawing, one an arabesque,” he says, mimicking a dance movement.

Abdessemed was born in 1971. He came to France from his native Algeria to study art because, as he reminisces, “in Algeria they assassinate hope”.

As an art student in Algeria he made a painting, Paradis (1990), portraying a naked woman bathing by a waterfall. Abdessemed recalls the consternation of staff and professors in the school: “What do you mean showing a naked woman – the school will close down.”

It is hard to believe this reaction now when peering at this modest work. “I was so shocked that the directors and professors don’t accept thi

Having heard how close to his family Abdessemed is, it is poignant to hear that when his daughter saw the photo of him engulfed in flames, she cried, “I don’t like this photograph, daddy!”

‘Abdel Abdessemed, Je Suis Innocent’ continues at the Centre du Pompidou until 7 January 2013

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  • HOMES
  • October 5, 2012, 5:45 p.m. ET
60 Seconds With

Artist Adel Abdessemed

The Paris-based conceptualist on upside-down drawing, his favorite neighborhood spots and the romantic reason he always wears blue pants

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Jason Schmidt/David Zwirner, New York/LondonAGENT PROVOCATEUR | Adel Abdessemed

JUST STEPS FROM the fashionable quais of the Canal Saint-Martin, Adel Abdessemed’s Paris studio is teeming with sketches, fabrication plans and prototypes. Tabletop maquettes of exhibition spaces around the globe are adorned with to-scale models of the artist’s recent work. The world is about to see a lot of Mr. Abdessemed.

This is an artist who likes to think and work big—he uses entire airplanes or a foundered boat the way a sculptor might use clay or wood. His recently opened survey, “Adel Abdessemed Je suis innocent,” at the Centre Pompidou (through Jan. 7), greets visitors with intertwined passenger planes (“Telle mère tel fils,” 2008) and a larger-than-life sculpture depicting French soccer star Zinedine Zidane’s infamous head-butt (“Coup de tête,” 2012). Meanwhile, the 41-year-old artist is working with German publisher Steidl and his New York-based gallerist, David Zwirner, on a multi-volume catalogue while preparing major solo exhibitions for Mr. Zwirner’s new gallery space in London (2013), the Multimedia Art Museum in Moscow (2014) and the Yuz Museum in Shanghai (2014).

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© Adel Abdessemed, ADAGP Paris 2012/David Zwirner, New York/London‘Coup de tête’

My art is an extension of myself—not only conceptually, but physically as well. When I make a drawing while hanging upside-down from a helicopter, I become part of the medium.

To work, I need the noise and presence of my family. I have four daughters: Ksu, Elle, Rio and Elektra, who are welcome in my studio. One will be doing arabesques, the other flying around like a bird and another on my knee. None of it breaks my concentration, but we do have to look out for the youngest, who is only 2.

I always wear blue pants. Bright cobalt is the color of typical workmen’s pants. It’s also the color of the Mediterranean. But for me the color symbolizes something different. I was wearing this blue when I met my wife, Julie, and she loved it. So I made her a promise—I didn’t have a ring, but I vowed I would wear blue from that day on. Yves Saint Laurent has been making these blue pants for me for years.

While I work, I listen to everything from Mahler to Burmese harp music to Charles Ives.

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Marie GenelLe Verre Volé

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© Adel Abdessemed, ADAGP Paris 2012/David Zwirner, New York/London‘Telle mère tel fils’

I don’t distinguish between works I make with my own hands and projects that require outside manufacture. Historically there have always been artisans and technicians involved with the fabrication process.

I like to give and receive gifts as a gesture of friendship, but I rarely buy things for myself. To paraphrase one of my favorite poets, Vladimir Mayakovsky, When an artist or a poet has nothing more to say, he collects.

For poetry, I love Paul Celan. I often come back to Nietzsche. A writer I enjoy, who is also a good friend, is Gilles Clément. He writes fascinating essays about gardens and public squares.

An artist I would have enjoyed meeting is Barnett Newman.

A great local haunt is Le Pont Tournant, which I discovered by chance. I was walking by and the wonderful Raï music drew me in. It’s charming and lively but also a bit raw—sort of a coin perdu.

I often eat lunch at Le Verre Volé, which is around the corner from my home/studio. They serve inventive dishes but nothing overly complicated.

One of my first memories is from when I was about 3, in Algeria. I saw a poster advertising the circus with an image of a lion putting its mouth over the head of the trainer. This image was my first experience of art.

—Edited from an interview by Mara Hoberman

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adel abdessemed: who’s afraid of the big bad wolf
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adel abdessemed: who’s afraid of the big bad wolf
1
Feb 23, 2012

‘hope’, 2011-2012 by adel abdessemed in ‘who’s afraid of the big bad wolf’
courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york

adel abdessemed: who’s afraid of the big bad wolf


installation view of adel abdessemed ‘who’s afraid of the big bad wolf’ at david zwirner, new york
courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york

the boat in ‘hope’ was found abandoned on a beach in the florida keys of the united states of america.


installation view of ‘coup de tête’, 2012, resin, 88 1/2 x 62 x 37 1/2 inches in the foreground with
‘who’s afraid of the big bad wolf’, 2011-2012, taxidermy, steel, and wire, 143 x 307 inches in the background
courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york

in ‘coup de tête’, abdessemed has created a sculptural representation capturing the moment in which french footballer zinedine zidane
headbutted italian player marco materazzi during the 2006 world cup final in germany.

the wall-sculptural installation, ‘who’s afraid of the big bad wolf’, is the piece for which the installation is named. the massive work
is comprised of taxidermy animals which have been burnt to a darkened red-black color palate.

detailed view of ‘coup de tête’, 2012 in foreground with
‘mémoire’, 2012, video on monitor, 20 sec. (loop), color, sound, dimensions vary (aspect ratio 16:9) in the background
edition 1 of 5, 2 APs courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york


‘l’avenir est aux fantômes’, 2011-2012
handmade glass
33 elements
98 x 224 x 223 inches
image courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york


installation view of ‘décour’, 2011-2012
razor wire
four elements
88 x 68 1/2 x 16 inches

‘décour’ is a collection of four to scale representations of jesus on the cross. the piece references ancient history, religious iconography
and contemporary perceptions of these concepts

.
detail view of ‘décour’ by adel abdessemed in ‘who’s afraid of the big bad wolf’ at david zwirner, new york
all images courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york


installation view of adel abdessemed ‘who’s afraid of the big bad wolf’ at david zwirner, new york
courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york


‘la grande parade’, 2011-2012
charcoal on paper
courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york
.


installation view of adel abdessemed ‘who’s afraid of the big bad wolf’ at david zwirner, new york
courtesy the artist and david zwirner, new york

leigha db
02.23.12

(3 articles)

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Man is Evil. Adel Abdessemed’s Religious Pessimism at Centre Pompidou, Paris

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Man is Evil. Adel Abdessemed's Religious Pessimism at Centre Pompidou, Paris   - ArtLife Magazine


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Paris – Paris has a brand-new tourist attraction, people of all ages and origins can be observed posing for photographs with a giant sculpture in front of the Centre Pompidou. The work shows a bald man sinking his head into the face of a younger one, the latter falling back in obvious pain; both carry shorts and jerseys. For our American readers: this is about soccer.Yes, exactly, that boring game for arm amputated Eurosissies!
More precisely it is about an episode that got deeply implanted in the world’s cultural memory. In the 2006 World Cup final Zinedine Zidane, an Algerian born French international player and the star of his team, had a little disagreement with Italian team’s defender Marco Materazzi. Materazzi’s repeated pulling at Zidane’s jersey resulted in the following dialogue as it has been established afterwards: (Z.:) “If you want my jersey, I’ll give it to you after the match” – (M.:) “I’d prefer your sister, the whore” – (Z.:) Headbutt, expulsion and France lost the match. An episode that obviously exceeds the world of sports and remains in memory as the most significant event of that day (hardly anybody still remembers the final score). It marked the end of Zidane’s career, who in France is remembered as the Michael Jordan of soccer, and in other nations as a good player. Presented in overnatural size, sculpted in the tradition of antique Olympian athletes, the two personages also symbolise the attention paid to sport idols but this is not the major concern of the artist; we will come back to it later.The sculpture is a first teaser for Adel Abdessemed‘s exhibition and crossing the Centre Pompidou‘s

doors

(French call it the “Beaubourg“, important thing to hold back if you want to be considered an insider), we are confronted with three intertwined airplanes in the entry hall. Abdessemed took actual cockpits and attached them to cotton tubes, thus creating three entangled snakes or one giant hydra; two of the “heads” feature the American and Texan flag respectively.
But hold on a second, an artist of Arabian descent doing this? With airplanes – two heads got cut off about a decade ago?
Quite irritated we get a first idea of what this exhibition may be about, without really understanding it for now.

Proceeding to the principal exhibition space a sign informs us that some of the works are not deemed suitable for minor audiences; our expectations rise even higher.
The first room is harmless though: a

carpet on

the wall carrying the French inscription “Thus spoke Allah“, alluding to Nietzsche’s “Thus spoke Zarathustra” next to a sculpted horse (donkey? It is female, in any case) with blinders kicking out.

Upon entering a separated section another sign warns about works of explicit violent and sexual content. – “Yeah, this is gonna be fun, now let’s get the party started!
Inside a naked guy plays an oriental flute on video.
On a second screen a foot is crushing lemons.
Finally the first work to meet the dirty promises (more or less): a film of a red haired woman

nursing

a piglet. Yes, take it literally.
The whore of Babylon with a haram animal, and the image of Western civilisation in the eyes of a Taliban. Next to it the artist placed a cube built from exploded airplane parts. Rather obvious, isn’t it?
The piglet is really cute and did you know that sociology ascribes the contempt certain desert religions hold for pigs to the animals’ exorbitant need of water, breeding pigs in a desert is an extraordinarily decadent thing to do – today you should declare champagne and caviar impure, if ever you intend to found a religion (please excuse me for playing the smarta%#)?

Next are flurry images of a small arena where the artist placed numerous living animals. Scorpions, spiders, toads, cocks, snakes. A snake eats a toad, two cocks fight, as do three wild dogs, we listen to the loser screaming. Is this necessary?
We don’t allow cruelty to animals in movies anymore, but Abdessemed takes us back. And he is incorrigible; obviously he has learned nothing of the scandal he caused in 2008, when the San Francisco Art Institute was forced to end an exhibition containing a slaughterhouse movie of his. Sure, Abdessemed did nothing himself (have I mentioned already, the exhibition’s title is “I am innocent“?) but he arranged the disgusting spectacle that we are to witness.

Wondering if this was all of the promised debauchery we continue to the next room where a wall relief of hundreds of taxidermic animals – foxes, deer, rabbits etc. – takes most of the space. To its side a Bosch like painting from Monsu Desiderio: “The Infernos” (1622) and a paradisiac scene from Abdessemed’s own hand. And finally we get a little bit more, a video from a performance he organised at his New York gallery, with spectators cheering at a circle of copulating couples; it strongly recalls that 90s music clip of The Beloved (yes, the song was s%#&).
Primal instincts in a supposed place of high culture. Oh, and the images are not that explicit, the artist would definitely make a lousy porn director. Though on the other hand, given the totality of his works, forty years ago he could easily have adopted an Italian alias and directed some mondo trash.

Leaving the adult section we may admire more works: four impressive crucifixions in razor blades on one wall; four big metal circles on another one; a projection of more ornamental forms; three resin car wrecks (bombed?) and a boat carrying sculpted garbage (or body) bags in the middle of the room.

After my visit it took me a while to make up my mind. Some interpretations are easy at hand, but the artist’s motivation is much harder to grasp. Adel Abdessemed presents the old perception of human being as a beast among others. Islamic fundamentalism on the one hand shares and teaches this belief, not only with regards to modern Western culture: the reason to cover your women with a veil is that you don’t trust men like yourself to behave, to control your instincts, to behave civilised. The image of a man in those cultures is much more degrading than that of a woman, as men are supposed to automatically fall on any unveiled women like a hungry lion on a sheep.
On the other hand, defining man as brute means dehumanisation and may easily justify violence/terrorist acts that according to the underlying theory should be condemned as belonging to the “animal” sphere (the grounding dualism man-animal that is continued in man himself, of course is a highly irrational concept).

The contempt for human nature and the animal within is shared by most religions, or to put it positively: Religious cults of all kinds teach self-denial and purification, saints and buddhas need to overcome their worldly wants. (This is by the way the major difference to modern ersatz religion

psychology

that equally reduces man to instinct driven beast, but formulates it positively, defining “sanity” and “happiness” as fulfilment of instinct and any longing beyond as vain delusion.) The Centre Pompidou makes a secret of Abdessemed‘s beliefs, neither is his Algerian origin mentioned in the official documentation, but as it seems he has chosen his camp.
A friend of mine told me he was sure Abdessemed belongs to an extremist catholic cult; of course he might also be a Copt… (I really wonder if the exhibition title has been fixed before all that fuss about “Innocence of Muslims“).

The last room may appear like an inadmissible comparison of religions. Abdessemed‘s crucifixions are masterpieces without a doubt; after a famous French collector (yes, that one) bought them they have been exposed next to a medieval Alsatian church’s Grünewald earlier this year. In comparison the ornamental forms that strongly recall Islamic art look kind of boring. (Abdessemed should visit the newly renovated Department of Islamic arts at the Louvre, maybe it could appease him). And even if there is nothing left of Christian culture but some garbage (again: or body) bags, at least those will be rescued by an ark?

Finally there is the story of Zidane. Professional sports can be traced back to Gladiator arenas (that again are comparable to Abdessemed‘s fighting animals). The soccer player is a Muslim, but not a fanatic at all; here he is presented as another example of savage violence and lack of self-control. Abdessemed is a fellow Algerian, but self-flagellation is a very catholic tradition. Among Westerners a phrase like Materazzi’s would be worth but a laugh, the times of duels are long over (and even they were highly ritualised). Terms like “honour” sound almost ridiculous in today’s Europe and are rarely expressed without irony, we abandoned these abstract values for good reasons. Would Zidane be of European descent he would have continued the above reported dialogue with something in the line of “Great, that will pay my dinner” or “So your wife’s free tonight?” – if he had bothered with an answer at all (his opponent knowing this, the provocation most certainly had never taken place). Contrarily, a person raised in Arabian culture (even in exile) is – a prejudice confirmed by empirics – supposed to use violence in defence of his “family honour”. Zidane’s action is – on a much lower scale – comparable to that of a suicide bomber.

After all, “I am innocent“, it is but my nature (or my culture), can hardly be a serious excuse for any human action. The artist implicitly reminds us that humanity is a lot more, that man can and should control his instincts and be free. It is a good thing, when an exhibition encourages discussion, and though Abdessemed crosses the line sometimes, he gives us much to think about.

Adel Abdessemed, “I am innocent”, Centre Pompidou, Paris, 3 October 2012 through 7 January 2013

Art – Exhibitions
by Christian Hain | Monday, 05 November 201

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http://www.standard.co.uk/arts/visual-arts/man-on-fire-adel-abdessemed-brings-his-work-to-mayfair-8436674.html

Man on fire: Adel Abdessemed brings his work to Mayfair

Controversial artist Adel Abdessemed brings his latest works to Mayfair’s David Zwirner gallery next month. From a sculpture of a Vietnamese napalm victim to a portrait of him setting himself alight, his best ideas are sparked by battle, he tells Ben Luke

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03 January 2013

Adel Abdessemed has a knack for making viewers uncomfortable. Rather like the Chapman brothers, the Algerian-born artist brutally pushes boundaries while questioning our morals. He has made a film of a woman breastfeeding a piglet; instigated a performance in a Milan gallery where people had sex in front of an applauding audience; set himself on fire for a photographic portrait, and created sculptures of Christ made from barbed wire.

I meet Abdessemed at his studio, near the Gare de l’Est station in Paris, to talk about his final preparations for the show which will open at Mayfair’s David Zwirner gallery on February 22.

Given his background, I find it impossible to look at Abdessemed on fire in his photograph — which he did for real, burning his neck and hands in the process — without thinking of another Maghreb man, Mohamed Bouazizi, the Tunisian whose self-immolation sent shockwaves throughout the Arab world in 2011, an event regarded as the genesis of the Arab Spring.But Abdessemed dismisses the connection. “I am not a chronicle,” he says. Instead, he quotes another artist-provocateur, Francis Picabia, the Dadaist, who said that a man could surround himself with fire to protect himself. So is the photo a kind of manifesto? “All my work is a manifesto,” he shoots back.

For his London exhibition, the British context will be fundamental, with many works taking on the theme of empire. Abdessemed has recreated the coronation chair from Westminster Abbey in barbed wire, a regular material in his armoury, “because empires are always connected with wars, I think — war and justice,” he says.

Around the studio are images inspired by some of the great works in recent British art history. “When I started to work on the show, I thought of the [British] Empire, and it came to me that a ‘colleague’, Richard Hamilton, made The state and The citizen.”

“What I like about Richard Hamilton is that he was one of the first pre-pop artists, and has a sensuality which American pop art doesn’t have,” Abdessemed says.

He frequently refers to artists from the far or recent past in his work — or invites them into his studio, as he puts it. His barbed-wire crucifixions, called Décor, were based on Matthias Grünewald’s 16th-century Isenheim Altarpiece, featuring a distressingly diseased Christ. But he feels his relationship to the past is different to contemporary masters steeped in the European painting tradition, such as Gerhard Richter.

“I don’t have this debt because I am not a European, I am a Mediterranean,” he says. “I am aware of history, but I don’t feel any responsibility or debt to it.”

Size and grand gestures matter to Abdessemed. Last year, he created a storm in France with a 5.34m high bronze sculpture depicting the moment French footballing hero Zinédine Zidane headbutted his Italian adversary Marco Materazzi in the 2006 World Cup final, a devastating coup de grâce to an otherwise coruscating footballing career. It towers over the entrance of the Pompidou, like a warning to those entering. “It is odd to celebrate defeats,” he says. “From the ancient Greeks until today, sculpture always celebrated winners, it was heroic. Mine is an icon of a defeat.”He was interested in Zidane being “trapped by his identity”. Zidane’s parents were also Algerian — does he mean as a North African? “Maybe. He didn’t behave as a professional, as a footballer — he expressed himself as a human.” I ask if he sought controversy with the work. But he insists his interest was more sculptural — the challenge was how to “recreate the effect of when Zidane gave the head butt” in three dimensions, “because when he headbutted Materazzi, it was something like a mass crash”.

“My work is not pessimistic,” he counters. “At the base of it there probably is despair, but inside it is the force to create, and if there is a creative force, then that as an activity is something positive. My work is extremely positive — it is the world that is negative.”

As I leave, I take away a sense of an artist with a profound need to speak to his audience. “Of course, I want my work to be universal,” he explains. “My work is talking about our humanity — we are monsters.”

Adel Abdessemed: Vase Abominable is at David Zwirner, W1 (020 3538 3165, davidzwirner.com) from February 22 to March 30. Open Tues-Sat, 10am-6pm; Monday by appointment. Free.

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Adel Abdessemed

STRIKE LIKE A BUTCHER, WITHOUT HATE

by Emily Nathan/ArtNet

 

The attitude of Algerian-born, Paris-based artist Adel Abdessemed (b. 1971) is distinctly embodied in an installation that anchors his current exhibition at David Zwirner gallery in Chelsea — a foundered dinghy that he discovered in the Florida Keys, shipped to New York, filled with cast resin sculptures of black garbage bags and perversely titled Hope (2011-2012).

Abdessemed surmises that the “refugee boat” was used by immigrants to come to the U.S. The contrast between the ugly, heavy trash bags and the picturesque vessel, with its rusty rudder, exposed caulking and panels of peeling, blue-painted wood, seems to say something about the uncertain fate of seekers on U.S. shores, and hints at the falseness of the American dream.

Abdessemed, who is preparing for an October 2012 survey of his work at Paris’ Centre Georges Pompidou, is certainly no optimist. Although he was born and raised in Algeria, his adult life has been marked by wandering, and he describes himself as a modern-day Ulysses, a world traveler — and an eternal exile. Critics have explained his work in terms of a life lived without national identity, lacking roots, but his art reflects more tangibly the violence he has unwittingly encountered at every step.

He left his civil-war-ravaged native country in 1994, after

studying

at the École Supérieure des Beaux Arts in Algiers — where its progressive director was murdered on the school steps — and enrolled at an art school in Lyon, France. He arrived in New York for a residency at PS1 just in time for 9/11, and almost immediately returned to Europe. His transfer from Berlin to the rough outer boroughs of Paris in 2004, where he has been based ever since, nearly coincided with the ethnic street riots of 2005. While Abdessemed does not like to revisit these experiences, he is quick to express the realization to which they have led him. “Reality is ill,” he says.“Hope is the only negative thing in the world,” he told Artnet Magazine last week, while guiding a walk-through of his exhibition, titled “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf,” on view at Zwirner’s two West 19th Street galleries through Mar. 17, 2012. “We don’t need hope. What we need is truth.”

And “truth” is what he has sententiously resolved to show us, a brutal, dire truth that places cruelty, suffering and every sort of “ism,” from racism to chauvinism, at the heart of human existence. Working in sculpture, installation and video, he favors stark imagery and masculine

materials

; his provocative works have included the crushed fuselage of a commander jet, which he folded into itself like rolled pastry dough and exhibits upright (Bourek, 2005), a cast terracotta model of an overturned car he found on fire in the street (Practice Zero Tolerance, 2006), and the enormous Telle mère, tel fils (2008) — three braided airplanes, their bodies replaced with felt-covered armatures and literally woven together.Despite their lack of subtlety, his smart, meticulous artworks make lofty philosophical and historical references. Abdessemed frequently quotes Heidegger, and he invokes Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs Du Mal (1857) to assert that the image, like the word, must “strike like a butcher — but without anger or hate.” To that end, he envisions his “performances” as “acts,” which do not merely evoke or represent violence, but enact it. Not surprisingly, the more “striking” of these have courted controversy.

Don’t Trust Me, six looping videos of animals being slaughtered by a blow to the head, brought vehement opposition from animal rights activists and death threats against the artist when presented at the San Francisco Art Institute in 2008. Abdessemed issued a statement in response but refused to justify, excuse or contextualize the killings, instead declaring his commitment to preserve the status of “an act of slaughter,” full stop, “without spectacularization and without dramatization.” The show was shut down.

Wild animals figure frequently in his works, and he often places them in dangerous situations. In 2007, he let seven wild boars loose on a Paris street to produce a photograph called Sept frères (Seven brothers), and his 2009 video Usine (Factory), shown in his first solo show at David Zwirner, featured snakes, spiders, frogs, dogs and cocks thrown together into a pit to fight it out. “Other artists use animals to represent something else,” he explains, “While for me, they are a real presence; our interaction is direct.” This, of course, echoes the relationship between Joseph Beuys and a wild coyote in his 1974 performance I Like America and America Likes Me.

If Abdessemed is a “pitiless young festivalist,” as the New Yorker described him in 2009, the art world

loves

him for it. He has had solo shows at New York’s PS1 (2007), Grenoble’s Le Magasin and MIT’s List Visual Arts Center (2008), and London’s Parasol unit foundation for contemporary art (2010), and his new exhibition at David Zwirner had nearly sold out even before it opened last Friday, with buyers including mega-collector François Pinault and prices ranging from $800,000-$2 million.The show gets its title, “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf,” from one large tableau hanging on the wall, to which Abdessemed has affixed 500 densely packed taxidermied hunting animals, like a morbid homage to Mike Kelley’s tapestry of stuffed dolls, More Love Hours Than Can Ever Be Repaid (1987). The creatures are frozen in every position imaginable, necks tangled, hooves over muzzles, eyes wide. Abdessemed has taken a blow torch to the lumpy surface of brown limbs and varnished it with cedar oil, which lends the charred composition an eerie monochromatic sheen.

Who’s afraid is equal in size — 12 x 26 feet — to Picasso’s Guernica, the great artist’s most pronounced political artwork. Abdessemed more gothic version, which could be an elegy to the end of nature, effectively transfigures meaningless slaughter into a disturbingly decorative taxidermied landscape. (The artist has reportedly chosen to keep this work for himself, though it will be included in his survey at the Pompidou.)

In its undifferentiated tangle of limbs, where predatory wolves and foxes are entwined with their prey, the work underlines what Abdessemed sees as a universal capacity for destruction. He does not frame his perspective in terms of victims or perpetrators but cites Dostoevsky’s proclamation, in The Brothers Karamazov (1880), that “each of us is guilty.”

Mémoire (2011-2012), a short, looping video presented on a monitor in the same room, features a trained baboon who affixes magnetic letters to a chalkboard one by one, spelling out the words “Hutu” and “Tutsi” — warring Rwandan ethnic groups who committed mutual genocide during their country’s civil war. The gallery is filled with the mechanical echo of each letter as it is slammed into place, an unpleasant aural reminder of the clangor of battle. The video suggests that meaning is like a bowl of alphabet soup, from which we can fish out whatever suits our purposes.

Décor (2011-2012) is an installation that consists of four life-sized sculptures of a crucified Jesus Christ, made from barbed wire and hung, arms extended and head drooping, in a row on the wall. Abdessemed has described religion as a bunch of “pretty stories,” and his use of a loaded religious icon for a work presented as mere décor is polemical. Its sharp metal barbs have been bent into smooth, rounded submission, and they suggest the sublimation of a tool of oppression — barbed wire, religion — into something else that is acceptable, and even innocuous, like a decorative work of art. (Its buyer, François Pinault, has agreed to lend it to a museum in France for temporary installation alongside its inspiration, Matthias Grunewald’s Isenheim Altarpiece, before it travels to the Pompidou in October.)

Lastly, Abdessemed turns his attention to the future. L’avenir est aux fantômes (The future belongs to ghosts) (2011-2012), shares a gallery with Décor, and consists of 30 nine-foot-tall microphones on stands made entirely from hand-blown glass, clustered together in the center of the room. The work’s title references a statement made by French philosopher Jacques Derrida in Ken McMullan’s 1983 film Ghost Dance, and is perhaps the artist’s sole acknowledgement of the potential for redemption. While in Décor, Abdessemed desiccates a loaded presence and reduces it to something empty, L’avenir offers presence by way of absence. The unmanned microphones, delicate despite their size, issue a silent

invitation

to be occupied — who will speak into them? Who will write the future?“When I look at the work of an artist,” Abdessemed mused, suggestively, “I am not

interested

in his biography. I want to be struck by what he makes; I want to hear his cry.”Abdessemed’s cry, grim and dramatic, resounds in the stark gallery. “If I need to deform the truth in order to touch it, then that is what I’ll do.”

“Adel Abdessemed: Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf,” Feb. 17-Mar. 17, 2012, David Zwirner Gallery, 525 & 533 W 19th Street, New York, N.Y. 10011.
EMILY NATHAN is assistant editor at Artnet Magazine. Contact Send Email

John Stezaker’s Double Truth Photographic Mindscapes

Mask X, 1982

Image 1 of 5
Mask X, 1982 Photo: John Stezaker
John Stezaker is a true artist intellectual in the British tradition who allows all of his formal gear to be overcome by the reality of the dramatic interior terrifying double truth image presence that will not reveal until it is time. He delves into not merely the unconsciousness, but also into the history of memory and the memory as its own history. He abandoned the practice of painting as a student for what he believed was the guiding light of the political realm. His practice mines actual image history by sifting through the tossed away images of regular persons. He holds onto the logic truths of Blanchot yet counts Gerhard Richter and Sigmar Polke as his primary inspirations, beyond the teachings and revelations of Guy Debord. He is both proto and post Conceptual artist. He sees his work as the resolve to the world gone by and a way of making sense of the intense experience of human existence. It is remarkable to see in his work and that of Urs Fischer and many other artists the Surrealist drive is in full operation in the 21st century in several world cities. In these images I’ve gathered above Stezaker combines the sophisticate and throws her and him into nature, eternity and the sublime of human time. He rewrites the images history be providing them with new and marvelous contexts that reach both back into time and haunt the present moment. He is a reanimator of images of lost time, pushing them both forwards into the unknown yet anchoring them into the theoretical universe of the Surrealism phase of the 20th century.
Below are excerpted texts from articles on the artist.
Vincent Johnson is an artist and writer in Los Angeles

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John Stezaker’s uncanny couplings

“My work emerged out of childhood vandalism”, John Stezaker says about his beginnings. The British collagist introduces new meanings to already existing images by appropriating ‘readymade’ material, such as postcards, vintage film stills, or old photographs, and conjoining them into new, unique images that bear surreal qualities.

Stezaker was one of the first generation of British conceptual artists exhibiting in the late 1960s and early 1970s. His main inspirations were Gerhard Richter and Sigmar Polke – painters heavily influenced by photography, who, paradoxically, caused him to stop painting. He started making photomontages while at the Slade art school in 1968. The idea came from being exposed to an unlimited flow of images produced by mass media and popular culture. However, Stezaker asserts that he does not have to look for images –  they find him. This is how he describes the process of arriving at the final work: “Images in charity shops are like orphans, they’ve lost their context or culture, they’ve gone a little bit out of date. They’ve been neglected and overlooked for years and people have passed them by, then suddenly here I am, the alternative foster home. But unfortunately I then inflict terrible abuse down in the basement where I cut them up.”

Stezaker’s manual interventions, cutting, pasting, reconfiguring or inverting, results in the images acquiring new contexts, at the same time complementing and contradicting the source photographs.

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John Stezaker

In the past few years, photo artist John Stezaker has had something of an art-world zeitgeist moment—which is both deserved and a bit belated, as the 63-year-old artist’s career has spanned more than four decades. Stezaker’s most notable works involve the manipulation of archival film stock images—particularly black-and-white actor headshots circa the 1940s. Through collage, fragmentation, merging strangely accordant figures and planes, and even occasionally gluing a dissonant postcard overtop a face, Stezaker’s small-scale works achieve a hyper-imposed friction in which the artist operates as both savior (salvaging long-forgotten photography) and destroyer (literally slicing and distorting the images into violent contradictions). “There used to be a variety of shops you could buy the film images from,” says Stezaker. “They came into the market through junk shops and book stores. But when the big-screen cinemas started to close in the mid-’70s, in favor of the multiplexes, that kind of photography disappeared.” In one of the basement offices of Stezaker’s terrace house in Camden is an entire wall devoted to a stock-film archive that he purchased in bulk when one of those image banks went out of business. Stezaker’s predilection is for mainstream cinematic images: “The ones shot by a particular photographer that most collectors want are useless to me,” he says. “I use the standardized, technical images that were printed a hundred-thousand times over. I feel at liberty to cut them up.” While Stezaker, who taught visual art at Central Saint Martins and the Royal College of Art and was one of those shaman-like teachers to several generations of British artists before retiring in 2005, possesses a method that could be traced to the ’70s and ’80s appropriation movement in American art, he’s more aligned with a European sensibility that stretches from dada and surrealism to Marcel Broodthaers. “American art has always tried to present itself as a pristine commodity,” he says, but the artist has always felt that his work explored his English roots. Recently, he’s moved from the still sculptural image to “time-based works” that function cinematically. “All films are a collection of images,” he says. His 2012 piece Horse, which shares a subject with English photo pioneer Eadweard Muybridge’s first motion picture of a galloping race horse, consists of 3,600 images of various horses at a side angle that, when projected at 23 frames per second, create one lasting, shifting, familiar and yet hypnotically unreliable animal, as if turning the continuity of Muybridge back on itself.

PHOTO: JOHN STEZAKER IN LONDON, OCTOBER 2012. ALL CLOTHING: STEZAKER€’S OWN.

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http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2198135/Splitting-image-The-surreal-portraits-splicing-peoples-pictures-won-collage-artist-30-000-photography-prize.html

Splitting image: The surreal portraits splicing other people’s pictures that won collage artist £30,000 photography prize

By Anna Edwards

PUBLISHED: 08:05 EST, 4 September 2012 | UPDATED: 01:52 EST, 6 September 2012

John Stezaker l Betrayal XVIII 2012: This splicing a man and a woman's face makes the viewer's head spin
John Stezaker l Betrayal XVIII 2012

The artist uses postcards, film stills and others pictures, including portraits, to create thought-provoking collages.

What can it mean? Siren Song V 2012 draws the audience in, as a picture of a womanly figure clashes with a postcard of a blustery sea front

The British artist, born in Worcester in 1949 and managed by The Approach Gallery, produced an exhibition for the Whitechapel Gallery in east London last year, and his exhibition there was this year’s entry.

The prize ‘recognises a photographer who has made an important contribution to contemporary photography in Europe in the previous 12 months’.

Mr Stezaker faced fellow artists Pieter Hugo (born 1976, from South Africa), Rinko Kawauchi (born 1972, from Japan) and Christopher Williams (born 1956, from the U.S.), who were each awarded £3,000 as finalists.

Now his work is being hung in The Photographer’s Gallery in central London.

The artist said: ‘I would like to thank The Photographers’ Gallery for their support throughout the nomination period and the Whitechapel Gallery for hosting the nominated exhibition.

‘Winning the Deutsche Börse Photography Prize today is a great honour, and being part of the exhibition has been a wonderful opportunity to showcase my work alongside other artists whose work I respect.’

When his work was shown at the Whitechapel Gallery, the artist attempted to explain his process.

He said to the Whitechapel Gallery: ‘I am dedicated to fascination – to image fascination, a fascination for the point at which the image becomes self-enclosed and autonomous. It does so through a series of processes of disjunction.’

The east London gallery said his ‘unexpected’ and ‘diverse’ collages create ‘surprising new narratives; the precise cut-out opens up new interpretations’.

It said: ‘Through simple rotation or mere cropping, the previously forgotten images acquire a renewed poetic resonance, and, in many cases, disquieting allure.’

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2198135/Splitting-image-The-surreal-portraits-splicing-peoples-pictures-won-collage-artist-30-000-photography-prize.html#ixzz2FJtqdwNa
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John Stezaker

by Barbara Casavecchia, photos by Thierry Bal
There’s something Kafkaesque about the fact that Stezaker confesses to never having been able to finish his favourite Kafka novel: The Castle, eternally parked on his bedside table. And that despite loving the Prague evoked by the writer – to the point of knowing its streets like the back of his hand and having dedicated his latest artist’s book to it (The Bridge, 2010, published by Christophe Daviet-Thery, Paris, in which, page by page, he re-elaborates the photos of a historic illustrated volume first published in ‘61 by Karel Plicka: Prague in Photographs) – he has never once set foot there, like Orson Welles who, in ‘62, filmed The Trial elsewhere, since under the Czechoslovakian communist rule the book was forbidden. Perhaps because both are places of the imagination (Live in your head) and any encounter with reality would inevitably break the spell. All his collages, from the earliest test pieces drawing on ‘70s news footage, to the ‘79 “Film Portraits,” right up to his “Marriages” present a split between two worlds and two levels, the conscious and the subconscious, standing astride the border between the sublime and the subliminal. It Stezaker himself that tells how, in the first work of the “Masks” series, in ‘82, he decided to cover up a face with the postcard of a bridge, because it had so appeared to him in a dream. He was floating beneath archways, seeing the world upside down, and however since then the bridge – the metaphorical threshold of conscience/existence – has been a recurrent element in his vocabulary.
With a cup of coffee in one hand and his round spectacles in the other, he takes us on a leisurely tour of his house in Chalk Farm, a terraced house facing onto a council estate, with a very green garden at the back. The house is awash with paper, piled up everywhere: the entropic crescendo preceding Stezaker’s upcoming retrospective at the Whitechapel in January. Or perhaps it’s just chronic: there are books and collages on the table of the studio looking onto the street, others on chairs, on the floor, among his son’s skateboards, on the tables and in the chests of drawers in the incredible archive of original photos from British and Hollywood cinema studios which takes up the entire basement. Even the tool shed in the garden has been turned into a library and is occupied by a huge heap of sheets, papers and old magazines, all due for destruction. There is also a pile of Italian fotoromanzi, which Stezaker has long collected, and from which he recognises all the “stars” and directors named in the “headers” at the beginning of every story. In the collages taken from stills, on the other hand, the faces tend to disappear, hidden behind inner passages or merging into multi-headed hybrids. That which remains are the flawless diva hairdos, some sporting glitter, others covered by dark hats, at times defining, at other times blurring genders, thus enhancing the erotic charge of the glam. They make you think of a famous “head” by Magritte (The Rape, 1934) where in the place of the eyes, nose and mouth there are the breasts, navel and pubis of a woman, framed by thick golden hair. But it must be noted that Stezaker has worked backwards towards the surrealist passion for free association, montage and cinema via Débord, the Situationists and the moral imperative to resist the consumerist acceleration of show-business society. Working in series, proceeding by uniform typologies of a theme, slowly probed over the years or decades, circulating worn out “off-cuts” after they have been sabotaged, are ways of slowing down the rhythm and flow of seduction.

Born in 1949, Stezaker studied at the Slade School from ‘67 until ‘73, finishing his degree with a postgraduate thesis in philosophy (under the guidance of Richard Wollheim) with an analysis of the relationships between Duchamp and Wittgenstein. A career which led him to stand among the front line of British conceptualists, and thus to teach not art but Critical and Historical Studies, firstly at the Central Saint Martin’s, then at the Royal College of Art, serving as a mentor for various generations of both pre- and post-YBA students. Following a long period of withdrawal, over the last few years he has started to exhibit on a regular basis once more in galleries and museums (with an exponential increase in his exhibiting events: the show “Third Person Archive and Other Works” at The Approach in London, 2004 was followed by that at the Kunstverein, Munich, 2005; at the White Columns, New York and the Yvon Lambert, Paris, 2006; the Rubell Family Collection, Miami, 2007; A Palazzo Gallery, Brescia, 2008; the Friedrich Petzel, New York and the Gisela Capitain, Cologne, 2009, to name but his key solo exhibitions), yet without losing the habit of working by night, one which he picked up when he was teaching, so as to take a little time for himself and exploit the silence around him. And so the dream world has progressively regained supremacy. When we go back to the starting point in the studio, Stezaker stops before a collage that revolves around a moth in black and white, taken from the Pictorial Encyclopaedia of Insects. “It all started with a slip of the tongue by a student of mine, who instead of “insects” said “incests”. From there, by assonance, I hit on ‘Insets’ and then ‘Inserts’”. All this is overshadowed by another Kafkaesque phantom: that of Gregor Samsa metamorphosed into a “monstrous insect”. Above the fireplace there hangs a silkscreen print with a great black rectangle on a white background, of which Stezaker, as he chats away, attempts to reposition the strip that serves as the upper margin, altering the perspective of the border to provide an anamorphic effect, thus making it look like a dark screen observed from afar. “It’s from my “Tabula Rasa” series, a work somehow linked to the death of my father. I spent a lot of time with him in hospital in the last months, only having a few sheets to write things on or cross them out.” And so we go headlong into the theme of death. “All art is related to death. In a famous conference in ‘33 (“Juego y teoria del duende”/ “Play and Theory of the Duende” in Buenos Aires) Federico García Lorca spoke of the duende, the dark inspiring force, beyond any style or virtuosity, that makes us aware of the limitation of things.” [And here there is at least one quotation which it would be difficult to overlook: Un muerto (...) hiere su perfil como el filo de una navaja barbera (“A dead man’s (...) profile cuts like the edge of a barber’s razor”)]. “I often work with used books, passed down from hand to hand; I find them on market stalls, second hand bookshops and in charity shops. Many come from house clearances, dispersing the lives and identities of those who have lived in them. That’s how I compiled my library, and there was a time when I was terrified by the idea that it might all disappear in the same way. Then I realised that the idea that it might never be dispersed at all was a lot more frightening. I think I’ll put it in the clauses of my will.” Once he has cut out a page or an illustration, his books go back onto the shelves, each with their own gaps to them. And here he tells another story, as intricate as an Oulipo novel, once more about a castle: that of Chillon, painted several times by Courbet (when he was living on Lake Geneva, selling landscapes to passing tourists), inspired by the poem The Prisoner of Chillon by Lord Byron.

When Stezaker, struck by a painting in a Courbet exhibition, managed to trace it down to the catalogue where he had seen it for the first time, he discovered that the image was no longer there, cut out and ‘withdrawn’ by himself, who knows when. “Lately I’ve been experimenting with digital works for the screenprints, but I must confess that I prefer the image in its “raw” state as an objet trouvé. Picasso said: “I do not seek; I find,” underlining the miraculous spontaneity of a discovery. My work is a sort of anatomopathology. According to Blanchot, only death makes a body visible, or transforms an object into an image. I believe that every image has at least two lives: that of its circulation, which progressively renders it invisible, through overexposure, and ends up suppressing it. And another, which comes from its being separated and reactivated, like a kind of afterlife.” Stezaker draws on that apnoea to safeguard our residual capacity to see, not to be overwhelmed by a sort of nausea, like that by which Roquentin is struck while in the garden in the famous novel by Sartre. “I’ve just quoted that passage in an essay on the cut-out botanical silhouettes of Philipp Otto Runge, a technique which the German artist was taught as a child by his mother.
Reducing a plant or a person to a two-dimensional profile is a way to reduce the excess of information and impose a certain distance, but also a way of bringing them back to life – even after their disappearance – with a surprising immediacy.” In the end, we can’t help asking him what kind of relationship he has with psychoanalysis. “In ‘78, I entitled one of my first film-still collages Negotiable Space I. It was a kind of joke, set in a doctor’s room, with a portrait of Freud hanging on the wall and a man lying on a couch, with a steam train bursting out of his chest and charging towards the psychoanalist listening to him. I hadn’t taken Freud very seriously. I was more interested in Jung and his theory on the collective unconscious, because I think it offers a better understanding of the mass media and our archetypal relationship with certain images, ones which recur over the centuries. But as far as my own psyche is concerned, I have never felt the need to have it undergo an analysis. I use images as cyphers of my own unconscious, letting them just emerge. I always say that it’s them who find me, never the other way round.”

(01/07)
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frieze

Issue 136 January-February 2011 RSS

John Stezaker

Capitain Petzel, Berlin, Germany

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To my mind, the dogmatic policing of images was never the objective of much feminist theory, which rather acknowledged and deconstructed the gendered gaze. Stezaker’s nudes are both iconographic and, even at the time of their making, programmatically dated, based as they are on images culled from 1920s and ’30s Swedish naturalist magazines. Ironically, these works contribute to a feminist art-historical debate about the cultural constructions and representations and how they have changed around the body, sexuality and freedom. As opposed to Warhol’s Pop feedback of the cultural everyday, Stezaker’s works posit image ideas from the past to underwrite the now; the mass-produced image is not plucked from a continuously new present but is already a historical artefact.
Complicating this picture is a work such as Catcher (1982), which seems like a formal pun on an early Frank Stella painting, consisting of a man-sized square with a central square hole on which Stezaker screenprinted the torso of a topless man. His arms push at the frame of the composition on a pinstriped fabric. Here the man’s musculature seems no match for the real and metaphorical framing of an image in painting. He is also a fragment and a kind of aberration on the abstract ready-made surface. It’s often said that the past comes back to haunt us; in Stezaker’s works, that is a good thing.

Dominic Eichler

Issue 136 coverFirst published in
Issue 136, January-February 2011by Dominic Eichler

http://www.frieze.com/issue/article/demand_the_impossible/

Issue 89 March 2005 RSS

Demand the Impossible

Interview

Of the generation that came through art school during the upheavals of May 1968, John Stezaker has long been intrigued by the power of images

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Michael Bracewell: Is there a defining statement of intent that covers your career as an artist?

John Stezaker: I’m dedicated to fascination – to image fascination, a fascination for the point at which the image becomes self-enclosed and autonomous. It does so through a series of processes of disjunction. First, obsolescence – in finding the image – then various devices to estrange or ‘abuse it’, in order to bring out that sense of the autonomy of the image. It involves either an inversion – cutting – or a process that cuts it off from its disappearance into the everyday world. I’m very much a follower of Maurice Blanchot’s ideas when it comes to image and fascination; he sees it as a necessary series of deaths that the image has to go through in order to become visible and disconnected from its ordinary referent. I don’t know whether that’s an ideal, but I suppose it could be a guiding principle.

Do you feel when you’re searching out the materials for your work, from charity shops or second -hand bookshops, that you are assuming a form of psychic responsibility?

Yes, I do. I’m taking things very seriously that aren’t usually taken seriously. And there is often an uncanny dimension to collecting images. You go out looking for one thing, and you find the image that you really should have been looking for and you realize that your ego’s been in the way. Picasso said, ‘I don’t search, I find’, and that’s true. The ‘found image’ is a very important term – it’s not an image that has resulted from a search; it’s found, and that’s much more spontaneous. It puts the image on equal terms with your own subjectivity; it has a power that overwhelms you. I’m looking for the sublime, in many ways. And I think that the uncanny is a miniature version of that.

Your work is in the tradition of the flâneur, for whom there are going to be occurrences in the urban landscape that enable a moment of transcendence.

Absolutely. You can go for months and years and not have those moments, and you’ve lost it. But it keeps you wandering, looking; ‘allowing yourself to encounter’ – there should be a word for that. It doesn’t matter whether I’ve had the images around on my bookcase for 20 years when I start a series; it’s finding an image in a bookshop that starts a new series of thoughts. In a way, what I want to do with a viewer is put them in that same dazzled state that I first encountered the image in. A good example, which started ‘The Bridge’ series, was from around 1985 or 1986. I had this dream in which I was floating under a bridge. And for some reason it was an incredibly important image. It disturbed me so much that I woke up. I don’t often have very vivid dreams, so when they happen I tend to be attentive to them. A friend asked whether I had read R.D. Laing’s Voice of Experience (1982). In this he describes the experiences of people who believe they can remember birth and of people who, after resuscitation, believe they can remember what happened to them when they were temporarily dead. It was based on a series of interviews carried out by an anaesthetist, and it turned out that there was a general conformity of these imagined happenings after death to the cultural and religious upbringing of the person. The exception was one image, which seemed to crop up all the time: they all spoke of traversing a bridge of some kind – some went under, or were sucked under, the bridge. This was similar to my dream, and so I started collecting images of bridges. I suddenly realized that by mistake I had turned one of them upside down – but then I knew that this was not a mistake but the correct placing of the image. When I turned all the others upside down, I realized that in all of them, unconsciously, I had been aware of this reflection and that all I had to do was turn them upside down. And the whole series fell into place.

Have you noticed the viewer wanting to affirm in some way what they are actually looking at?

I thought the opposite would be true, that people would see through the device so quickly that there wouldn’t be enough time to entertain that intermediary, unreal space. But in reality it’s been the opposite. That’s why I’ve always said that those tiny pieces are actually site-specific pieces; because in a sense, if you put them in a magazine or a catalogue, you have the choice to turn them upside down and therefore destroy the illusion – whereas on the wall you can’t do that.

Some writers have said your work articulates the classic Modernist experience of the city. I think of Ezra Pound’s line ‘The age demanded an image of its accelerated grimace’.

And Baudelaire’s idea of the prose poem, I think, is important.

What was your own art education?

I went to the Slade for six years, undergraduate and postgraduate in painting, although I gave it up in the first year. I entered college in 1967, so my first academic year involved the sit-in that took place in 1968. The reason I gave up painting was partly political. I was interested in student politics at the time and was exposed to the Situationist International ideas from France. And that’s where collage came from too. I couldn’t read French very well, so much of the work of the Situationists was a predominantly visual experience for me. Seeing these re-captioned images gave me ideas – that this may be another way of thinking about being an artist. But it was a strangely schizophrenic course. On the one hand I was doing life drawing with Euan Uglow, on the other I was entertaining ideas from Guy Debord.

What was the teaching like?

Very academic. Based very much on life drawing, although 1968 changed everything, and so I only got a glimpse of the old establishment. I lived during what most people regarded as something of a vacuum in terms of the Slade’s history, because we started off with the most amazing array of teachers – I studied with Richard Wollheim, Professor of Philosophy, a marvellous man. I became very involved with philosophy through him; my postgraduate dissertation was on post-Duchampian art – I was trying to make a relationship between Duchamp and Ludwig Wittgenstein. It was a very exciting time, but I also regret 1968 in a way. I feel that what we did was very damaging. We had Ernst Gombrich as an Art History professor, but he never came back after 1968.

What was so damaging about 1968?

We were dismantling the structure, but had nothing to replace it with. We had William Gregory for Visual Perception, for instance – and all these things vanished after 1968. There had been an amazing line-up of intellectuals involved in the Slade teaching at that time, and afterwards there was this emptiness, and it never really recovered. But the one valuable thing I got out of it was coming to terms with some of the ideas of the Situationists – Guy Debord, in particular. La Société du Spectacle was terribly important. I struggled with it in French at the time, and then it was published in English in 1969. But his interest in collage made me aware of the subversive potential of Surrealism – Situationism comes out of that tradition, as much as any tradition of political resistance.

How did you envisage the left?

I was terribly naive – I was influenced by the political climate at the time. Well, I must have been, because at one point I joined a fringe Maoist group. It didn’t last more than one meeting, but there we are. I became very interested in the image culture. The central question for me was, how can you be an artist in a culture of images? There were other figures who featured fairly highly for me; for example, I became familiar with Gerhard Richter and friends with Sigmar Polke. I had ideas about painting but somehow felt dissatisfied when I enlarged a found image on a canvas – it seemed an artificial process. So I was torn between painting and using other means; so in the end collage became the way through that process.

It’s interesting how a political climate can become an artistic enabler.

I think Situationism generally opened up a new awareness that we live in a culture of images. And that was an important realization: we started to pay attention to something that previously we as artists had treated as beneath contempt. I don’t think Pop art really took its subject matter seriously; it was more something to rebound off. But what I felt I needed to evolve was an art that genuinely engaged with that momentous circulation of imagery, and found a way of intervening in it and revealing something about what had become rendered as a sort of collective unconscious. And that got me briefly interested in Carl Jung, the idea that there could be a social version of the collective unconscious within the media.

There also seems to be a deeply Romantic sense to your work.

Oh, totally. I find myself trying to find ways in which one can encounter the media image in a way that resonates with that whole iconographic tradition going back to Romanticism via Surrealism. There is a tradition of fascination for the image which lends the image a degree of autonomy, and that’s a Romantic ideal. William Blake was a very big influence too, on some of my symmetrical pieces.

Was there a breakthrough moment for you in trying to solve this problem?

Yes. There was a piece I kept in my bed-sit at the Slade that has an interesting story. I moved to London when I was 12, and one of the first things my mother did when we arrived was buy a slide projector. My parents decided to be modern in the 1960s, and they weren’t going to keep an old-fashioned photo album. A slide of Big Ben was provided with the projector, to test it out. I started doing a painting in my bedroom, projecting the image of Big Ben up on to the wall. I was under the influence of the German Expressionists and used lots of very colourful paint! When the slide projector was on, it was an absolutely stunning painting. But the moment I turned the light on, it was just a horror! But the image stuck in my mind, and I found it on sale later, as a giant postcard for tourists – my first ‘found image’, you might say. I took it home when I was about 17 and cut a corner out, and for some reason kept it. It stood for what I called ‘my apocalyptic possibility’ for art, and I titled it The End. I thought, could art just be that? Just finding, and taking out of circulation?

When you enlarge an image, how does this fit in with the processes of your work?

The enlargement process is important to me, apart from the fact that I don’t like the detachment from the original. That’s my problem with any process; I am fascinated with the original. I like the idea that when people look at a piece of mine on the wall, they are looking at what they might flip through in a second in a bookshop, or find somewhere in the world, only something has happened to it – some minute thing, like turning it upside down – and their relationship to it has been changed. I like that immediacy. But there are also other things I want to explore: symmetries, for instance. You can’t do without some form of manipulation.

That tiny readjustment of the ‘found’ is quite Duchampian.

Yes, I see them in Duchampian terms. He uses the word ‘arrest’ or ‘stoppage’ or, more pessimistically, ‘delay’. I think he was the first to be aware of what it is to be an artist in an age of image flows. And that’s where I pick up on that moment of interruption; I see the cut as a decisive interruption of the flow, whether it’s the flow of cinema and the film still or image turnover and circulation. How do you do something that’s fixed, and has that quality of contoured-ness that art requires for an image to become an imaginary possibility? How do you inscribe that on the flowing away of the world around you? This, to me, is the central preoccupation of my work. Is it St Paul, building his church not on the rock but on the sands? How do you build a place of contemplation and of transcendence in this space of continuous movement?

Where does that stand in relation to Conceptualism?

It is the opposite: Conceptualism, for me, is an integration into that flow of instrumental communications. For me it’s a disjunction from one’s conceptual relationship with things that brings about that image possibility. Blanchot talks about the point at which the image becomes the master of the life that it reflects – he’s actually talking about a corpse, the point at which you see a face in a dead person that you’ve never been aware of before. And he says that with André Breton’s ‘unusable objects’ – they are obsolete, perverse, fragmented and outmoded. In that obsolescence they become visible. ‘They disappear into their use’ is, I think, the phrase that Blanchot uses.

There seems to be a considerable intellectual underpinning to your work.

There is, but most of it tends to be post-rationalization – intuitive leaps that can take me years to understand. And that’s usually the way of terminating a series, and so funnily enough it has a negative effect. Or rather, it is positive, but it’s a way of closing things rather than opening things up.

Michael Bracewell

Michael Bracewell’s recent novel Perfect Tense is published by Vintage. With the assistance of Bryan Ferry and Brian Eno he is currently researching a biography of Roxy Music.

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An Interview with John Stezaker
 John Stezaker and Andrew Warstat
Andrew Warstat: Why do you prefer giving interviews as opposed to writing texts or essays about your work? John Stezaker: It’s more an act of forbearance than an active choice. I haven’t had the time to do any writing. I have kept a kind of writing practice over the years though, which involves the writing of lectures. But quite honestly I’ve always hesitated in terms of publishing the writing, as there’s then a tendency to approach the work through what I write. Admittedly, the same applies to interviews. So may be you’ve got a very good point, and perhaps I should stop doing interviews too.There is always this problem; I mean this,
in being published, becomes the authorial voice, and it’s unfortunate, because that’s not how I see it. I see the work as quite impersonal because I don’t know where the work comes from. That’s what the whole mystery is for me. So I am only a little bit better off than the spectator, in fact sometimes I’m worse off, as most of the time I’m trying to catch up with what the spectator can see quite manifestly.It’s problematic, the relationship to language always has been, and it even applies to titling, which I find very difficult. Sometimes a title appears and it becomes part of the work, but that’s very rare.
 JS: In a way, I see my work divided into two roles, the collector, and collagist. I gavea talk at Sheffield in a series called ‘Working from the Archive’ where I discussed my practice as actually being the reverse of working
from the archive: it was working  towards the archive. My collecting of images is a sort of end point that is static,whereas the collage work tends to be an exploration of images through the process of cutting or fragmenting in one way or another. So the collage work is a fluid process involving a multitude of images – whereas collecting involves finding what remains,is finite and fixed. So I think there is a schism at work to do with these different temporalities, and I think de Man is very interesting on this relationship or separation which he describes as an allegory and the separation from any origin,I think you find this especially in his writing on Mallarme ´.I was very interested in Mallarme ´early on, long before I read Blanchot (though it was only when I read Blanchot that I realised why I was interested in Mallarme ´).Mallarme ´is one of the key originators of collage – I don’t think you could have the idea of the ‘found’ or the readymade before Mallarme ´.But going back to your question, there is a contradiction, as you call it, or ambiguity,between the desire to complete a series, which is like bringing it to rest, and the movement of in completion. A complete series is at rest just as a completed collection is dead – it is ready to pass on. For me, it is a necessary death that allows it to go out into the world.AW: Is it a seamless shift between the practice of collecting and collaging? JS: No, not at all. These practices are even divided into different work areas – I tend to work upstairs during the day on the collection, and at night I work downstairs on collage.The best time for me tends to occur after I‘ve spent a whole night working when I’m just about to go to bed, and it’s one of the reasons why I work at night. It’s when I’m so tired and my consciousness is so lowered, that all the collages that haven’t come together suddenly seem to come together. I try to preserve this: I leave the mall spread out so when I come down the next day there will be something there – there’s usually something ,perhaps not much, but something there in the morning. The day-time work involves a stilling of this flow – it’s the moment of arrest and dissimulation mostly!Strangely, I’ve never been able to work in a studio that is separate from where I live.I first experienced this when I was at art college when I found I couldn’t work:I thought it might have been the presence of other people, that everybody seeing what you’re up to disrupted what I was doing. I felt there was something quite secretive about the act or the production of my work. This inability to work at college got me a dispensation from attendance at the Slade from Coldstream, and allowed me to work from home. I occupied no space at all. And because of the space shortage that is universal to art colleges, the arrangement was quite welcome.I attended college though, but mostly went to lectures in philosophy, film theory and art history.
I feel that work comes out of digression, and this kind of diversion requires the comfort of being at home. I do think the work comes out of the space between things and best comes out of the interface with ordinary activities. For example, if I go down to my desk to do some work, I’m already approaching it in the wrong way.But, if I am tidying up my collection of image fragments for example, I might suddenly find myself plunged into another kind of image pursuit. I suppose it’s only when you’re in the midst of it, with a momentum, that the work develops. There’s a wonderful phrase that Rilke uses in one of his letters where he talks about being in his work like the pith is in the fruit; this exactly expresses the combination of momentum and total stillness. It’s a very tiny moment, but that’s what one’s seeking, a threshold state of some kind – an opening.AW: So is this why you’ve always taught theory and critical studies, because of the type of interruption this form of teaching causes? JS: Yes, although it turned out to be a hard choice. There is a lot more work in preparing lectures and seminars and supervising essays.Teaching is one of the reasons I became an insomniac – it was necessary in order to keep up my work. I worked at night and taught in the day and lived on coffee. I’ve always taught in those departments which used, of course, to be called complementary studies departments and prior to that art history departments. I started teaching painting, but what I found was that after a day’s teaching, I really didn’t feel like going back to the studio. But then I discovered, after taking a group of students to a show at the National Gallery onetime, as lightly different way of engaging with the art that was important to me in some way that made me want to dash back to the studio at the end of the day’s teaching. So that’s what I did. I just followed my own enthusiasms in a way entirely guided by the progress of my work. Mainly, I lectured in the areas of romantic is an romantic attitudes to the image, and on the sublime: Blake Friedrich and Runge. Later, this started to include Surrealism and Bataille and Blanchot. At this point the interest in the image started to become more philosophical.AW: How do you see your work in relation to romanticism now? JS: I see everything as being part of romanticism, really. I include modernism and post-modernism and all the other –isms as all having their roots in romanticism, and I think that’s how I’d understand myself. I think there are so many artists that we can think of in this way – Cornell, for example. It is the tradition of what Blanchot called the artist as ‘exile from life in the world of images’. AW: In one of your interviews with John Roberts you say that: ‘mass culture is the destination of romantic inspirations’.
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 JS: I would have said that in about 1982, I think – the reason I would have said that then was that I was looking, at that time, at things like naturist photography as the end of the line of the tradition of the nude in the landscape. I was interested in these cultural termini. I was looking at the way that mass culture had become a repository of these different movements. So I did think mass culture was a terminus, if you like,of romantic ideas whilst representing a way of refinding them. In this way I thought
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 D o w nl o ad ed B y : [ U ni v e r si t y of L e ed s ] A t :11 :548 A p ril2010

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