Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for Art Basel Miami 2012.

Let’s begin with the facts. This year’s 12th annual installment of Art Basel Miami Beach featured 257 exhibitors (excluding publications, institutions, or bookstores). This means 257 booths spanning the floor of the approximately 500,000 square foot bottom floor of the Miami Beach Convention Center. If you walk all eight north-to-south aisles (one way), you will canvas a little over two miles of carpeted ground. This does not include the shorter east-to-west aisles (of which there are six), or offsite partnering venues (of which there are three). Add to the mix the record attendance numbers (50,000 visitors) over a short period of time (four days) at the pricey cost of participation ($35,000 on average), and you have a bona fide contemporary art circus. At $42 a ticket, the show better be worth the cost of admission.

Crowd view of Art Basel Miami Beach 2012. Photo by Andrew H. Walker / Getty Images.

Needless to say, the costs associated with exhibiting in one such fair are astronomical. Beyond the cost of the booth itself (which runs $52 per square foot in the fair’s main section), a gallerist must consider packing, shipping, flights, meals, staff hotel accommodations, promotional expenses, possible furniture rental, client entertaining, and the omnipresent “unanticipated expense.” Need an extra light bulb in the booth? That’ll be $150 each. Lunch for the staff of four? $96 a day. Needless to say, the pressure to (at a minimum) break even on the expenses of participating in the headlining mega-fair oftentimes results in high-ticket inventory from high-ticket artists, leaving little room for the mid-career, emerging, or unknown set. So when a gallerist decides to feature the atypical–potentially, unsaleable–artists of his/her program, it can often be considered a bold, magnanimous statement. Moreover, to hold the attention of a collector is challenging enough when sensory overload is a fated plague, but to also attempt to capture their focus through an unorthodox sensory faculty requires certain panache. Enter: sound and video art; the conceptual, disenfranchised cousins of Basel’s long-running triple feature, starring Koons, Murakami, and Warhol. This is not to say that presenting sound and video art at a venue like Art Basel Miami Beach is easily done, or even encouraged, by participating dealers. All signs typically point to “easily overlooked,” especially when competing with more commercially digestible works like the colossal Roy Lichtenstein in Gagosian’s booth, or the hustled parade of hip-hop moguls weaving through the masses. However, a select few of these ambitious projects managed to cut through the white noise of the fair’s inner murmur and conduct an alluring opus for the observant few.

Zhang Ding. Buddha Jumps over the Wall, 2012; still from video, color, sound. Courtesy of LeapLeapLeap Magazine.

Shanghart Gallery’s (Shanghai, Beijing) presentation of Zhang Ding’s Buddha Jumps over the Wall (2012) offers a two-minute video tucked behind several lengthy tables of red-stained plaster fragments, as if the removal of a body cast has gone horribly awry. Set to an incongruously elegant soundtrack of soft classical music, the video’s explosive gunshots lure the viewer in to a staged annihilation of white plaster animals. Filled with red paint, the bleached creatures in the video are disturbingly yet gracefully pierced and dismembered, the illusion of blood flowing from their figures causing simultaneous agitation and intrigue. The push/pull revulsion and curiosity evokes the kind of tension associated with romanticized reality, as we dissect the parts we long to keep and discard those less appealing–precise, like a butcher in his shop.

Paulo Vivacqua. Desert, 2012; mixed-media installation. Courtesy of Galeria Laura Marsiaj.

Galeria Laura Marsiaj (Rio de Janeiro) transformed their booth into a sand-filled dune for the installation, sound, and video-based work of Paulo Vivacqua, Desert (2012). Projected upon the back wall are the summits of a tawny mountain ridge against a slate sky–unspecific to any one region. Buried in the sand are several glass columns–in which audio channels and speakers are housed–that emit ambient, meditative sounds. Wind rushing, cicadas hissing, and voices whispering meld into a hypnotic sibilance, and are carefully interwoven with the artist’s own atmospheric compositions. Meant to represent the lapse of a full day within eight minutes, the installation is haunting and tranquil–a nod to the lost repose in our increasingly harried lives.

Various works by Ivan Seal. Courtesy of Krome Gallery.

Just around the corner, Raebervon Stenglin (Zurich) presents a solo booth of paintings and sound by Ivan Seal. Painted from memory, his still lifes appear evocatively disjointed–and are accompanied by a matte-black boom box resting on the floor. Much like the spacing of his works on the walls, Seal’s irregular beats hiss from the speakers like a misfiring audiocassette. Though acting as the wholly recalled memory of one painting’s subject in particular, the abstracted autobiographical track emits a guttural, throbbing pulse every few seconds, preventing the viewer from having a singular sensory experience through its comical diversions. The cadence of the work mimics the meter of Seal’s erratic reverberations–imprecise, authentic, and constantly shuffled, as no two viewings will ever be the same.

T. Kelly Mason. Stars Stairs Ptemkin Exorcism, 2012; mixed-media installation. Courtesy of Cherry & Martin.

Stars Stairs Ptemkin Exorcism (2012) by T. Kelly Mason absorbs much of Cherry & Martin’s (Los Angeles) booth. Like a makeshift abode born of speedrails and packing blankets, the environmental installation consists of two darkened enclaves–both of which are illuminated only by lightboxes. Like stained glass windows, they depict a starry night sky and a dimly lit staircase–false vistas narrated by hushed voices, footsteps, and musical snippets emitting from the speakers overhead. As the title suggests, the installation bespeaks the shoddy illusions of a Potemkin village, and the expelling of our disenchantment–Mason’s eerie din further recalling the incessant thrumming we endure throughout our days. Not the least of which resonates throughout these vast halls in Miami Beach. Will you stop to listen?

I may be in an enviable position, but it is a sticky one nonetheless. I’m getting to the position where I may be represented by multiple galleries that want to show my work at art fairs. With the rise of the art fair as a way of selling and promoting artists, how might I go about deciding which gallery will show my work at a fair? In the instance where you are just showing in galleries it seems easy because you can schedule shows apart in the calendar year and set work aside for each gallery, but if the same galleries start showing up at fairs, it gets tricky. Is this something I have to negotiate, or would I just tell them to talk it out?

Congratulations! To answer your query, I turned to some experts who have the inside scoop on art fairs. Gallerist Nathan Bowser in Portland, Oregon, agrees that your predicament (if it can really be called such) is a good one to have. “This artist has a very exciting problem and should be commended for actively thinking about the best way to balance these many positive elements of his or her career. Communication is key to any business relationship, so avoid the ‘let the galleries duke it out’ approach (this is a great way to alienate your allies). This is YOUR career, so it is quite important that you remain an active voice in these important choices. How and where your art is displayed directly affects who sees it and what they take away from that experience. Though it may be one of the least interesting aspects of an artist’s work, staying involved in your career planning can be one of the biggest determining factors of your success.”

Jordan Tate. New Work #100, 2009; three-channel slide projection; Courtesy of the artist

Edward Winkleman, my other go-to man on the art fair scene, had some detailed insight into how your issue might play out. As the Director of Winkleman Gallery in New York, he’s had a lot of experience with fairs, including ARCO, Art Chicago, Pulse, Year 06, Aqua, and NADA: “It’s not at all unusual for an artist to have work in the booths of multiple galleries at an art fair. Usually those galleries are in different cities, so there’s not much confusion about who represents them where, but you’ll occasionally also find work by the same artist in booths of galleries from the same city (generally as a plan worked out mutually by artist and respective galleries, but not always). For example, say Gallery A represents Artist X and Gallery B owns some of Artist X’s work outright. Even if Gallery A and Gallery B are in the same city (and even if Artist X and Gallery A might object), Gallery B can indeed present the work at the art fair of their choice because it’s their property. Of course they might damage their relationship with Artist X (assuming they still have one), but they are in the business of selling art, so….”

It sounds like you need to initiate conversations with all of your galleries so that everyone is on the same page. In their responses, both Edward and Nathan brought up the related issue of having enough work on hand to satisfy your dealers and collectors, so make sure to discuss expectations regarding quantity with your galleries. For example, Nathan pointed out, “At some point there comes a time in an artist’s career where they must face the task of supplying enough work to maintain the interest and active collecting of a (hopefully) ever-growing and widening audience. Especially for an artist whose star is on the rise, there is definitely a case to be made for producing enough work to satisfy this demand. An artist I work with has this great anecdote from a visit to Andy Warhol’s studio. He, Andy, and several others were standing around chatting, and the question of how to become a well-collected artist came up. Andy’s reply was simple: ‘You can’t be well collected if there aren’t enough works to collect.’”

Jordan Tate. New Work #141, 2009; pigment prints, frames; Courtesy of the artist

Edward underlined the need to put everything on the table before problems arise: “Trickier for the artist is how to keep each gallery who might want to bring work to the same fair (or to fairs near the same time) happy when supply is short. Multiples are one solution, if that fits within the artist’s practice. Otherwise, it makes sense to simply have a conversation with each representing gallery well in advance, letting them know what you, the artist, feel is available for that fair. Yes, this can lead to disagreements, but the earlier such conversations take place, the easier it becomes to work out solutions that keep everyone reasonably happy.”

So you have to think very carefully about not only where your work is going but also about how much work you can reasonably produce to have on hand for each fair. Nathan continued with some savvy observations on how an art fair functions for the artist, the gallery, and the collector: “Success at art fairs is often tied quite closely to a well-planned and executed strategy. Despite the free for all feel on the fair’s floor, a large portion of sales start before the fair opens, and even more activity culminates well after everything has been packed away. Galleries that are successful at art fairs develop leads before the fair. Later, follow-up communications after the fair can lead to sales and museum shows. Rarely do these things happen from coincidence.”

Jordan Tate. New Work #141 (detail), 2009; pigment prints, frames; Courtesy of the artist

“Though some galleries find success in a something for everyone, scattershot approach to their art fair presence, I’d venture that this type of booth caters most to the impulsive shopper who is looking for low-hanging fruit and less to the serious collectors who are generally using art fairs to check in on artists they already collect and to consider new work; to finally see in person works that they’ve been hearing a buzz about; and/or to reconnect with their network of trusted advisors (galleries) and to learn about new artists who match their interests.”

“With these points in mind, talk with your galleries. Learn about the fairs they will be showing at. Go to the fairs yourself and determine where you’d like to be seen. Find out how your galleries intend to structure their booths. Who you will be showing with? How do they see your work fitting the market where the fair is? How are they advertising? Who do they know in the area? Are there leads they are trying to capitalize on? What work of yours are they hoping to show? A few small drawings in the corner of a booth with twenty artists could do fine for an emerging career. A solo booth at a prominent fair could be the gateway to museum shows. If you are a multidisciplinary artist who works across several media and styles, you may be able to split works thematically amongst your galleries, providing each with work that best matches their program’s focus.”

Nathan summed up with some final words of wisdom: “Be inquisitive, make a plan that works for the vested parties, but also let the professionals do their job. There are a lot of variables to consider, so talk it out. It’s good to be wanted—don’t shy away from opportunity. But make sure the choices fit your goals and your ability to make quality work for this important presentation of your art. Communication is key.” Amen to that. Good luck!

Noemie Goudal viewers at Edel Assanti. Photo courtesy of Edel Assanti.

The first post-summer reunion is at Edel Assanti: the Private View is filled with my much missed gang of art cognoscenti; we all dodge the rain and dive into an ice bin filled with beer and admire the haunting Noémie Goudal photos. Looking up from the tiny world inside the artist’s stereo viewers, I see an almost familiar face. Hmmm…don’t I know that guy? He’s tall and slim with a sort of clean-cut charm extracted from a Ralph Lauren ad. My trusty wing woman and I edge towards the make-shift bar to meet up with some nearby Gagosiennettes. As our little groups converge, he gives me a blue-eyed look and says ‘Hi.’

Of course, I fake it for a while, studying his face before giving in and begging the question as to where we have met. He flashes a devilish grin, explaining we met at the infamous Courtauld party last year at the Notting Hill Arts Club – a party from which I barely escaped with my life. Lovely, he thinks I’m a drunken maniac. After sharing a few laughs about the mess of last year’s party, the two of us, my best girl and my best gay all head out of the gallery towards Soho for tapas – a night which ends in a whirlwind of Prosecco, trannie bartenders and 80’s dance tunes.

He does a mean Footloose impression.

He asks me out to a more civilized date at a trendy restaurant soon after – I’m thoroughly impressed after living in a city where ‘lets meet at the pub at eight’ and I buy my own Guinness qualifies as a date. He helps me with my coat, pays the bill and even walks me home.

Keith Coventry, Looted Shop Front, 1995 Bronze. Installation at the NewArtCentre. Photo Courtesy of NewArtCentre.

It’s now late September, I can feel the art fair panic set in slowly and then accelerate, amplifying at the same rate as the plethora of heady art events. Clearly, there are not enough cocktail dresses to go around. Frieze week approaches like a foreboding cloud. With pulses on the rise, my fellow art professionals become sleep-deprived – we all know it’s not really Frieze until somebody cries. (It’s Saturday before Frieze when my exhausted best girlfriend cries into her Lalani tea and scones at the Burlington Social Club tea party over a missing price list.) I manage to escape the city for one last day of relaxation to catch the opening of Keith Coventry’s show at the NewArtCentre in Rochecourt, appreciating the irony of a show celebrating urban blight in such a gorgeous and exquisite estate nestled in rolling, green English countryside.

I wonder what he is up to.

Thomas Houseago, Portrait Column I, 2012 Tuf-Cal, hemp, iron rebar. Photo: Fredrik Nilsen.

A number of big, blue-chip exhibition openings mark the official beginning of an orgy of private views leading up to Frieze, like the impressive Thomas Houseago sculpture show at Hauser & Wirth, a scattering of monumental, and of course, phallic, sculpture in the glass case of the Saville Row space. The Pace Gallery and David Zwirner both inaugurate their competing flagship spaces in Mayfair with highly attended champagne parties: pristine exhibition spaces sprinkled with the who’s who of the international art world. Luc Tuyman’s at Zwirner’s were pleasantly luminous and interesting, one still life with cabbages bringing to mind perhaps a bigger, more electrified Morandi (or was that the blindingly lit space?) Pace’s highly anticipated Sugimoto and Rothko mash-up of colorless horizon lines was disappointing – Milly Glimcher’s green sequined gown certainly the most dazzling thing in the gallery space. All agreed that Pace served better champagne in larger quantities – which the swarmsters and I still managed to gulp down in less than two hours.

Since it is my old stomping ground, I spend the evening at Pace flirting with old tech crushes and avoiding rival gallerinas, swirling about the crowd in a black leather mini skirt. Halfway through my third glass of Veuve, I see that familiar face enter with his auction house entourage. He is all smiles in his slim black suit, skinny tie and… a motorcycle helmet. Vroom. He introduces me to a few friends, falling in and out of German to English as we both spot and chat with out a few art celebs. I tuck myself into a corner as he slowly leans in to speak over the crowd… My old tech crushes sigh, lower their eyes and empty their glasses. We exit hand-in-hand out of the scrum to find a burger at Mayfair’s Automat. By the end of the night I realize two things: Automat fries are about as close as one can get to In n’ Out fries in London and… I might like this guy touching my knee under the table.

Hugh Mendes, Obama Lama at The Future Can Wait

I ring in Frieze on Monday with a spicy Vesuvius martini at The Sanderson with old friends, swirling the red chili in my martini glass while we all exchange gallery gossip. We crash Gavin Turk’s colorful print exhibition at Paul Stolper Gallery and the over-subscribed Future Can Wait Saatchi Show. The works at The Future Can Wait are about as random as the hipster outfits, and fighting for a drink is hardly worth the effort. A brief blissful moment with Hugh Mendes saves us from the crowd as he shows us his small, careful works featuring news clippings of the Dali Lama. We arrive at our next stop, wobbling in heels over cobblestones and feeling like well-dresssed vampires as tuxedoed bouncers and lines of flaming torches lead us down into a dimly lit church crypt. Lusciously grotesque, the fabulous Metamorphosis show by All Visual Arts includes slimy octopus bodily bouquets by Polly Morgan and surreal, feathered snakes by Kate MccGuire arranged throughout the worn brick archways. Standing out, one painting by Jonathan Wateridge shows a woman, facing away from the viewer. She wears a lush white fur and a blonde bob and walks towards the uncertainty of heavy velvet curtains. There is a Mulholland Drive, LA Noir tone to the work, we cannot see her face, which is perhaps a painfully beautiful one, or a grotesquely disfigured one. And, somehow, I am certain the blonde bob is a wig. As the crowd swells and babbles underground, the bubbles go to my head, I get lost in her world – wondering if she is alone, in danger, or in a some desperate kind of love.

All Visual Arts Metamorphosis Installation

I spend Tuesday afternoon wandering from one auction house preview to another, finding myself far from the action of the Frieze Master’s VIP Preview by nightfall. Preferring instead to check out PAD, the small and more manageable tent on Berkley Square that focuses on design. The big tent is penetrated occasionally by massive tree stumps twisting through exhibitor booths and incorporated by some (some better than others) to showcase their work. Olyvia Fine Art had to be the biggest fail of art fair history with what looked like a garage sale of very bad Condos, Naras and everything else hideously inbetween tacked on a tree trunk. Galerie Vedovi, on the other hand, had an impressive collection, including a graceful little Calder in front of Christopher Wool canvas and a Pistoletto mirror interestingly tucked beside their tree’s rippled bark.

Another sighting draws my eye and shatters my concentration, both from the fair and from my new romance: it’s some one I met at Art Basel. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Agh. Then it hits me: I’m having an Art Fair Romance…another one. Its a particular type of coupling between art professionals fueled by the beauty, power, money, glamour and booze that wafts through the air at these sort of things – and much like the better known Vacation Romance – its one maybe one seemingly doomed to fail. I make a mental check-list. There was Mr. ArtBasel and the infamous Mr. Venice last year. My god! Is Mr. Frieze doomed to regress into vague statements about emotional availability as soon as the tents are pulled down? I say hello to Mr. ArtBasel, of course, as he is too annoyingly handsome to deny, before making a beeline to the exit. This place is a fucking minefield.

PAD Art Fair on Berkeley Square. © Photo : Nicolai Hartvig

This Art Fair Boyfriend epiphany still reeling in my head, I must escape the cloud of cloudy judgment towards the one place I feel absolutely at home: a string of jam-packed boozy openings in Mayfair. Shizaru Gallery displays rows upon rows of works that fit in with its theme, Bad for You featuring naughty subject matters from cheeseburgers to pills and bullets. The only thing more jam-packed than the wall is the crowd, and although a ‘bad for me’ vodka tonic takes the edge off, I’m quite happy to move on to Gagosian’s elegant, quiet space around the corner to see Giuseppe Penone’s installation of cast bronze branches and artfully arranged thorns on canvas. Flying solo, (the only fail safe method do everything I want in such a small amount of time) I head to Ronchini Gallery to see Conrad Marca-Relli, whose delicate patchwork abstracts do not disappoint. In fact, I dare say the show was my favorite of the evening, elegantly hung, classically beautiful and resplendent in colour.  Spruth Magers is my next stop – to see the black and white sculptures by Fischli and Weiss, placed around the gallery like jumbo, sophisticated Legos.

Conrad Marca-Relli at Ronchini Gallery. Photo Courtesy of Susanne Hakuba and Ronchini Gallery.

Out of the crowd of cigarette-sucking Swiss sophisticates outside of Spruth, I see him, my Art Fair Boyfriend. He is smiling and flanked by a tee-tiny, red lipped and well-furred lady, a sloppy haired man in an all black sheen suit and a tall blonde man wearing flashy studded leather gloves and cradling Balenciaga bag. What a crowd. I meet this artsy motley crew from Zurich. After a glass of wine desperately attained from the gallery’s back room and what seems like a dozen cigarettes between my new friends, he sweeps me up in a cab to hit the Phillips de Pury after party. There is a rumor Simon is DJing – and so we cannot resist.

The Phillips auction house is run amok with half of Made and Chelsea and the dance floor is a pretty adorable, nerdy gathering of middle-aged collectors swaying to Bob Marley’s greatest hits. The few under 40’s sip their drinks and admire the works on the sidelines. A surreal work my Rebecca Horn draws my eye: a wall-mounted box holds a glove and a bloodied egg. Laid on top, a book mechanically opens and closes, fluttering its pages seductively. My best gay friend arrives just in time to fire a sharp quip about the crowd forming a conga line or doing the chicken dance. We all agree that Simon shouldn’t quit his day job and that we all need a new after party. Heading south across the Thames, we arrive at he infamous House of the Nobleman party to see the hodge-podged installation of works in one of London’s most expensive addresses.  Ascending the tower by glass elevator, we arrive in time to admire the most gorgeous thing on the wall: the view through the window.

Rebecca Horn, Lolita, 1997, leather glove, ostrich egg and copper rod in Plexiglass box. Photo courtesy of Phillips de Pury.

It feels like it has been the longest day of my life, but it is barely midnight when we pull up to the trendy Tramp to gate crash Blain Southern’s afterparty. Bare-legged teenagers teeter on their heels outside the club in the chilly air, desperately flipping their hair at the bouncers. I am certainly not on the list – nor am I eager to spend much quality time with these ladies. This door looks like an iron curtain. He assures me it won’t be a problem: I’m his plus one after all. Plus one. The ultimate art fair aphrodisiac…

We head down a flight of stairs, which seems to carry every well-known artist in London – known for drinking well in London. I’m through a few glasses myself when I say hello to one of my own favorite painters. He does look a bit AAWF, so I say, ‘What a crazy party! Having fun?’ He responds with, ‘Ahhhghff skoouud afff blllaahh’ before running directly into the ladies room. Typical. Since the example of behavior has already been thusly set, I toss off my earlier hesitations and philosophical meanderings about art fair coupling and decide to dance and snog the night away on the misty dance floor – outlasting Tim and Sue. We narrowly escape into the night, right before one of our friends boogies into a dislocated shoulder. We later learn he spent the night in the hospital after the ambulance came and peeled him off the Tramp dance floor.

The night was a gorgeous blur. It’s only Wednesday and I cannot actually believe I am alive at this point. He explains that he has to go deal with this very important client at Frieze Masters. I must spend the day at Frieze London for the VIP preview. He has an auction tonight too. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Goodbye.

It’s official: Frieze has opened it doors to the select few in possession of varying echelons of VIP cards. Like locks in a canal, a portion of the swarm is allowed to proceed dependant on the hour. I caffeinate, hydrate, and eat as many carbs as humanly possible knowing I’m about to run another gauntlet – in heels. The 11 o’clock crowd rushes towards the blue chip galleries, fighting for the best works on display. There is so much money flying through the air, you have to duck to avoid being punched by a million dollar negotiation. This year, like every year, the Frieze tent is so brightly lit in its bright white enclosure, it sears my hung-over retinas. Since every work on display is seemingly neon pink or mirrored, I quickly decide its probably wise to wear my sunglasses inside.

Thomas Bayrle, Sloping Loafers/Smooth, 2012 at Frieze London. Photo courtesy of Frieze.

It is clear straight away that the darling of the whole of Frieze London is clearly Thomas Bayrle. He shows his work en masse at Galerie Barbara Weiss as well as all along the dizzying entrance walls to the fair. His work is great – but making my brain hurt.  The first booth that pleasantly soothes my headache is Matthew Marks, with especially memorable works by Darren Almond and Terry Winters. I admire two large monochromes by Willem de Rooij at Galerie Bucholz and spot a stunning photo by Daido Moriyama at Taka Ishii Gallery. Victoria Miro has a great booth, including the most gorgeous Alice Neel portrait I have ever seen.  Massimo de Carlo also delivered with Massimo Bartolini’s great paper airlines where the artist retraces the folds, crackles and other injuries done to the paper. White Cube, Gagosian and Thaddaeus Ropac presented predictable collections of their greatest and most yawn-inducing hits, putting me in a sour mood. David Kordansky Gallery saved the day with their solo exhibition of works by Jonas Wood, a painter I like more and more with every work I see. A strange colorful mix of David Hockney, Dexter Dalwood and Henri Matisse – his works capture a sort of retro beauty of everyday life with a fantastical and cartoonish eye.

Jonas Wood, Green Room, 2012. Photo courtesy of David Kordansky Gallery.

Day turns to night as the preview party at Frieze begins. The tent fills with familiar faces. I make a leisurely stop at the Stevenson Gallery booth, which is seemingly overgrown with rubber vines of sculptures by Nicholas Hlobo and some beautifully creepy and hairy, woven paper works. I am also happy to spend some time at Thomas Dane’s booth to admire a few works by Lynda Benglis and Alexandre da Cunha. When I meet up with my friends, I am almost completely bisou-bisou-ed out and glad to join in on a glass of champagne in the VIP room. Another twirl or two around the room really does me in. We grab some doughnuts and drape ourselves in provided cashmere throws to shake off the chill coming in through the terrace. After a round of daily recaps, I decide to turn the conversation away from art and end the night discussing more important things: boys. My latest affair is met with booth squeals and words or warning. It seems the Art Fair Boyfriend crux is a common denominator in the crowd. I fear the likelihood of its survival is about the same likelihood any of us will make it to the Sadie Coles after party. Happily, a little shake from my iPhone uplifts me: ‘Lunch tomorrow?’ Indeed.

Stevenson Gallery booth at Frieze London with works by Nicholas Hlobo

As I walk home, I think about tomorrow. I contemplate how with many art events, the day the doors open to the public actually sounds the death knell for the week’s VIP excitement. Louboutin stilettos morph into the dreaded baby buggies and it’s all over before it even begins. It’s all over before it even begins. Perhaps I am drawing too much from this philosophy about the Art Fair Boyfriend, but I cannot help but fear the sense of dread accompanying the beginning of the end. Like any art fair, will that fleeting honey moon period where everyone loves the fair, the excitement and the buzz abruptly end when we all remember what a over-hyped, crowded, stressful calamity it really is? Art Fair Boyfriends may go the same way of so many art fair parties – a rough, guilt-ridden hangover and sad acceptance that everyday life doesn’t always come with free champagne.

But then again, there’s always FIAC.

I might even bring a plus one.

I may be in an enviable position, but it is a sticky one nonetheless. I’m getting to the position where I may be represented by multiple galleries who want to show my work at art fairs. With the rise of the art fair as a way of selling and promoting artists, how might I go about deciding which gallery will show my work at a fair? In the instance where you are just showing in galleries it seems easy because you can schedule shows apart in the calendar year and set work aside for each gallery, but if the same galleries start showing up at fairs, it gets tricky. Is this something I have to negotiate or would I just tell them to talk it out?

Congratulations! To answer your query, I turned to some experts who have the inside scoop on art fairs. Gallerist Nathan Bowser in Portland, Oregon agrees that your predicament (if it can really be called such) is a good one to have. “This artist has a very exciting problem and should be commended for actively thinking about the best way to balance these many positive elements of his or her career. Communication is key to any business relationship, so avoid the ‘let the galleries duke it out’ approach (this is a great way to alienate your allies). This is YOUR career, so it is quite important that you remain an active voice in these important choices. How and where your art is displayed directly effects who sees it and what they take away from that experience. Though it may be one of the least interesting aspects of an artist’s work, staying involved in your career planning can be one of the biggest determining factors of your success.”

Edward Winkleman, my other go-to man on the art fair scene, had some detailed insight into how your issue might play out. As the Director of Winkleman Gallery in New York, he’s had a lot of experience with fairs, including ARCO, Art Chicago, Pulse, Year 06, Aqua, and NADA: “It’s not at all unusual for an artist to have work in the booths of multiple galleries at an art fair. Usually those galleries are in different cities, so there’s not much confusion about who represents them where, but you’ll occasionally also find work by the same artist in booths of galleries from the same city (generally as a plan worked out mutually by artist and respective galleries, but not always). For example, say Gallery A represents Artist X and Gallery B owns some of Artist X’s work outright. Even if Gallery A and Gallery B are in the same city (and even if Artist X and Gallery A might object), Gallery B can indeed present the work at the art fair of their choice because it’s their property. Of course they might damage their relationship with Artist X (assuming they still have one), but they are in the business of selling art, so….”

Jordan Tate, New Work #100, 2009. 3-channel slide projection (RGB)

I’d say it sounds like you need to initiate conversations with all of your galleries so that everyone is on the same page. In their responses, both Edward and Nathan brought up the related issue of having enough work on hand to satisfy your dealers and collectors, so make sure to discuss expectations regarding quantity with your galleries. For example, Nathan pointed out, “At some point there comes a time in an artist’s career where they must face the task of supplying enough work to maintain the interest and active collecting of a (hopefully) ever-growing and widening audience. Especially for an artist whose star is on the rise, there is definitely a case to be made for producing enough work to satisfy this demand. An artist I work with has this great anecdote from a visit to Andy Warhol’s studio. He, Andy and several others were standing around chatting and the question of, ‘how to become a well collected artist’ came up. Andy’s reply was simple: ‘You can’t be well collected if there aren’t enough works to collect.’”

Edward underlined the need to put everything on the table before problems arise: “Trickier for the artist is how to keep each gallery who might want to bring work to the same fair (or to fairs near the same time) happy when supply is short. Multiples are one solution, if that fits within the artist’s practice. Otherwise, it makes sense to simply have a conversation with each representing gallery well in advance, letting them know what you, the artist, feel is available for that fair. Yes, this can lead to disagreements, but the earlier such conversations take place, the easier it becomes to work out solutions that keep everyone reasonably happy.”

Jordan Tate, New Work #141, 2009. Pigment Prints, frames.

So you have to think very carefully about not only where your work is going, but also how much work you can reasonably produce to have on hand for each fair. Nathan continued with some savvy observations on how an art fair functions for the artist, the gallery, and the collector: “Success at art fairs is often tied quite closely to a well-planned and executed strategy. Despite the ‘free for all’ feel on the fair’s floor, a large portion of sales start before the fair opens and even more activity culminates well after everything has been packed away. Galleries who are successful at art fairs develop leads before the fair. Later, follow-up communications after the fair can lead to sales and museum shows. Rarely do these things happen from coincidence.”

“Though some galleries find success in a ‘something for everyone’ scattershot approach to their art fair presence, I’d venture that this type of booth caters most to the impulsive ‘shopper’ who is looking for low-hanging fruit and less to the serious collectors who are generally using art fairs to check in on artists they already collect and to consider new work; to finally see in person works that they’ve been hearing a buzz about; and/or to reconnect with their network of trusted advisors (galleries) and to learn about new artists who match their interests.”

Jordan Tate, New Work #141 (detail), 2009.

“With these points in mind, talk with your galleries. Learn about the fairs they will be showing at. Go to the fairs yourself and determine where you’d like to be seen. Find out how your galleries intend to structure their booths. Who you will be showing with? How do they see your work fitting the market where the fair is? How are they advertising? Who do they know in the area? Are there leads they are trying to capitalize on? What work of yours are they hoping to show? A few small drawings in the corner of a booth with twenty artists could do fine for an emerging career. A solo booth at a prominent fair could be the gateway to museum shows. If you are a multidisciplinary artist who works across several media and styles, you may be able to split works thematically amongst your galleries, providing each with work that best matches their program’s focus.”

Nathan summed up with some final words of wisdom: “Be inquisitive, make a plan that works for the vested parties, but also let the professionals do their job. There are a lot of variables to consider, so talk it out. It’s good to be wanted—don’t shy away from opportunity. But make sure the choices fit your goals and your ability to make quality work for this important presentation of your art. Communication is key.”

Amen to that!

Arthouse of Austin TX presents Corner Store by Okay Mountain in the IMPULSE section of this year’s PULSE Miami Contemporary Art Fair.  Commissioned by Arthouse specifically for PULSE, the installation is  elaborately researched and accurately realized.  Corner Store envelops the visitor within the environment of a gas station or convenience store typical to Texas and the Southern United States.  All elements of Corner Store‘s retail environment are realized by Okay Mountain, including wall murals, posters, video (surveillance camera), lighting, musical and ambient soundtrack.  Multi-media sculptural elements define the space and include the counter, coolers and products for sale like cans of ‘Shit with Beans’ and the ‘Sans L’Enfant Morning After Peanut’.  All of the items and their prices are listed in a products flyer available to each visitor.  The contents of the store can be purchased from appropriately attired clerks behind the counter.

Okay Mountain humorously critiques the consumerism that defines the art fair, while making typically inflated art prices accessible to all visitors with some products priced under $10.  Brazenly referencing Claes Oldenburg’s The Store (1961), the concept of Corner Store is nonetheless relevant through its placement in the contemporary art fair environment and through the completeness with which it executes the convenience store prototype.  Corner Store‘s immersive quality is thoroughly engaging and creates an uncanny familiarity for the American visitor.

PULSE Contemporary Art Fair is dedicated solely to contemporary art, with its IMPULSE section dedicated to solo artist presentations.  PULSE takes place annually in both Miami and New York.  This year’s PULSE Miami is located at The Ice Palace through 6 December.

Nonagon 2008, Courtesy the Artist and the Third Line

Dubai’s Third Line Gallery presents new work by Iranian artist Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian at this year’s Art Basel Miami Beach, Art Nova section.  Farmanfarmaian’s series of mosaics of mirrors succeed, according to the Third Line Gallery, in combining ‘the intricate ornamentation of Iranian architecture with the aesethetic of modern abstract expressionism’ – both of which appropriately reflect this artist’s background.  In creating these mosaics, Farmanfarmaian worked closely with Iranian craftsmen whose skill set is traditionally passed from father to son.  Individual mirror pieces were carefully constructed and painted then arranged and applied to a wooden backing to create each elaborate geometric shape according to the artist’s design.  All of the mosaics in this series fit within the diameter of a 100 cm circle.

Pentagon 2008, Courtesy the Artist and the Third Line

Aside from being aesthetically compelling through shape and the brilliant reflection of light, Farmanfarmaian’s works in mosaic contain profound symbolic meaning.  In Persian culture, the mirror represents life.  Furthermore, the carefully designed geometric shapes reference abstract ideas of creation and existence.  The circle is an important symbol that is representative of origin and of eternity; the triangle evokes the concepts of harmony and the human soul.  Numerical symbolism derived from Islamic geometry applies further meaning to the shapes.

Square 2008, Courtesy the Artist and the Third Line

Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian attended the Fine Arts College of Tehran and later the Parsons School of Design (1949).  The artist has shown extensively internationally and was included in the exhibition East-West Divan:  Contemporary Art from Afghanistan, Iran and Pakistan at the 2009 Venice Biennale.  The artist’s work can be found in the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art, Victoria and Albert Museum, London and the Queensland Art Gallery, Australia – in addition to other important institutions.  Farmanfarmaian lives and works in Tehran.

Art Basel Miami Beach continues through 6 December 2009.