I am somewhat relieved that the Jo’burg Art Fair is over. The papers will at last give us some respite from Ross Douglas and Robin Rhode (not that either is objectionable), not to mention the abominable regurgitation of PR phrases like “the first ever fair ever dedicated to contemporary African art EVER!!”. I will be relieved not feel the pressure to buy books and posters simply because I can’t afford some art, and I look forward to the return of the unfussed aloofness of gallerists to which I have become so accustomed, and which seemed to have evaporated under the flourescent lights of the Sandton Convention Centre basement.
The Joburg Art Fair is indeed the only, and first, international art fair specialising in contemporary African art that intends to continue as an annual event. If for some good reason you weren’t there, you missed out on two days of bleary-eyed hangovers (Friday and Sunday) and one day so packed with action it was impossible to witness all of it (that would be Saturday). Simon Njami, the curator of As You Like It, wore his sunglasses indoors on all three days, so there must have been some party on Friday night to which I was not invited.
This week blogs and websites are replete with the expected criticisms and praise: the corporates politely complement Artlogic for pulling it off and marvel at how nice African art is, gallerists already want in for next year, and artists and critics cultivate among themselves a haughty disdain for the terribly bourgeois commodotisation of their hard work. For me the most entertaining perspective on the fair comes from its big shot, New York media backer, Louise Blouin MacBain, who said of the role of contemporary African art internationally, “You have a lot of potential. And there are such beautiful textiles here … If we could just get them out into Europe and the United States, that would be great.”
I will very briefly add my small pinch of spice to this debate: I think it is quite moral for artists to be paid for their work, and it doesn’t follow from the fact that money enters the art industry that all artists will compromise their intellectual integrity. Some will, but not all. That said, I sympathise with the paying visitor who was first treated like an ATM and then ignored when it was revealed that s/he merely wanted to browse through a gallery stall. I often had to wave my press pass about before I got the audience of a gallerist at all (my plastic earrings betrayed the unlikelihood of my actually buying anything).
The old “commercialisation of art is evil” rant is so done, and although it remains fashionable to appropriate this cause, I don’t want to.
What I think may be a more interesting problem to have surfaced at the art fair is the de-intellectualisation of discussion surrounding art that seemed to have been incited perhaps by the unfamiliar environment, or perhaps by the assumption that the visiting clientele would be uninitiated into the art world.
I am not at all suggesting that art should remain accessible only to an elite crowd of practitioners and academics. I happen to have overheard a few conversations between other visitors and gallerists that were abysmally dumbed-down and gushing, which suggests to me that these gushers may have been more invested in securing quick, impulsive purchases rather than nurturing long-term customer loyalty. The frenzy to sell out within the three-day window, to report back from the art fair triumphantly, appears to have transformed gallerists into publicists rather than public educators (I might add that public education was one of the goals itemised in the PR campaign leading up to the fair).
The problem with the de-intellectualisation of art is not that it compromises an exclusive discourse, but that it often simply misses the point of many works altogether. When you want to buy a Kentridge just because you have been kicking yourself for not doing it in the 1980′s when it was cheap, this deracinates the the work of a tremendous concentration (I would say most) of its significance and allure. Art is a cerebral enterprise. There is simply no way around this.
The single gallery stall to engage the transactional and political dynamics of the fair with any acuity, or even at all, was Cape Town based Whatiftheworld Gallery. Whatiftheworld changed their exhibiton each day, cleverly giving Friday visitors an incentive to return to the fair on Saturday and Sunday, and allowing themselves the curatorial space to consider their relation to other galleries, Njami’s exhibiton and viewers, as the dynamics of these shifted. The arrangement of their diminutive stall was primarily installation-based, with an eclectic collage/assemblage by Julia Rosa Clark taking centre stage. On Saturday afternoon Avant Car Guard took over with a performance piece that spilled out onto the forbidding black edifice that was the outside wall of Njami’s exhibition space.On Sunday Liza Littlewort and Georgina Gatrix set up a drawing installation that provided acrid, Art Heat-esque commentary on the spectacle of the fair, the high-profile contacts artists hoped to weasel, the reaction of visitors to certain works, and more generally, the character of the institution of fine art in South Africa.
If it were not for the fact that an absolutely hyperbolic local media hype was needed to stir the South African public, who are often disappointingly inert when it comes to art, to give the Joburg Art Fair a look in, I would be inclined to criticise Artlogic for “overblowing” the event, for hubristically promoting it as a baby Frieze Fair (it would need at least twice the number of galleries to be half as big as Frieze). For now, at least, the question of whether the Joburg Art Fair should be compared to its international counterparts remains live. Whether or not in years to come the fair attempts to compete with Basel, Frieze and the like, and will be a defining factor in this discussion, and this controversy might be one of the more interesting to emerge from the fair.
I own a small collection of pieces by South African artists, some well-known, others not, and which I bought from them personally. Everything I own I bought (a) because it moved me and (b) because I liked the artist’s attitude.
Nothing in the world is worse than a ponce – and if an artist prances round with affectations, pontificating about the glory of art, then he is probably not an artist at all but, in the words of Tschaikovsy (speaking flippantly of Brahms), a “giftless bastard”, whose contribution to art is as meaningful as a five year-old’s finger paintings.
REAL artists don’t tell the world they’re artists; the world tells them.
My good reason for missing the Art Fair was, uh, being in Pretoria, but it sounds hopeful – any fair which has education of the general public about art amongst its goals is a good thing indeed.
@WFT: Real artists don’t need anyone to tell them they’re artists – they create because it’s such a part of who they are it would be impossible not to. So real artists, tell me, at any rate. When they let me hang out with them. When they’re not creating stuff.
I am also glad that the Art Fair, whatever it was, is over and now we ‘dumbed down’ types don’t have to read any more incomprehensible articles about how art is uncomprehended.
I was so worried that the Art Fair would be the usual expo-type bunfight, and I haven’t been able to decide whether or not it actually was one.
And call me hopelessly optimistic, but I think what the “dumbed down” conversations did show was that there is at least some desire (from the general public) to learn more about what they are looking at. Galleries are intimidating places, and people are often scared to ask, and this change of environment probably helped a great deal in that regard.
It’s a pity that gallerists often became cheap publicists at the fair though.. it was a missed opportunity in that sense.
I never imagined anyone would use the words Art Heat-esque. My silent and humbled applause.