If you were to listen to 160 disparate compositions played simultaneously and try to imagine each instrument—with its distinct volume, dynamics, timbre, and tuning—as a work of art, this might give you a sense of what a visitor experiences at Frieze, without actually stepping inside… A mechanical swan with a rotating neck, South American household oddities perched atop a clay mound, a colossal Italian coffee maker, the most nonsensical combinations in painting (a folksy tropical slaughter with a pixelated elephant in the background), a jet engine simulated through layers of clothing—the only consistent thread, as if they’re telling us, is to accept that everything we see is art.
‘If I were toplace my backpack here,would that be considered art too?’ a young man quips to his companion, who has paused by a bench craftedfrom algae-huedceramictiles. Notably absent are explanatory texts—perhaps adeliberatemovetoavoid further bewildering the public or to prevent distraction: there are enough impressions to last for months. For some, until the next Frieze.
Here, thestrategicsignificancelies in the arrangement, location, and concentration of comparable works in one area.Georg Baselitz’s(b.1938) monumental canvas—ahighlight in any other context— languishes unnoticedin a passageway. The painting “Painting” by Joseph Kosuth (b.1945), the conceptual art theoristwho, in a way, is the progenitor of what’s happening at Frieze, is relegated to a corner, keeping company with Jenny Holzer’s (b.1950) marble footstool engraved “Abstraction is a type of decadence,” and there’s no one around either.Meanwhile, it’s busynearthetoilets…
Amidst this visual tempest, the South Korean gallery Johyun offers a rare oasis of calm for the eye and mind with works by Lee Bae (b. 1956). His energetic yet minimalist charcoal ink strokes on large-format paper are as far from decadence as they are from the random quirks of expressionism. Instead, they echo Eastern wisdom,conveyed through the language of symbols (Lee Bae has been working exclusively in traditional charcoal technique for the past quarter-century). In fact, any South Korean booth at Frieze merits attention, as does almost any Berlin booth. They strike a notable balance: experimental yet accessible, surprising yet coherent, showcasing a tempered “creative madness”.
Art market titans such as White Cube, Thaddaeus Ropac Gallery, and David Zwirner Gallery have charteda more familiar course, luring visitors with astar-studded roster: Donald Judd, Barbara Kruger, Rose Wylie, Adrian Ghenie, Walter Price…The list continues, as does the queue at Lehmann Maupin’sbooth, where Billy Childish (b.1959)and his two sons arelive-paintingalandscapegrisaille upon warm linen canvas—a majorfair attraction. One that’s proved phenomenally successful: rumor has it that almost all of the Childishes’ workswere snapped up on the first day.
The transitionfromFriezeLondontoFriezeMastersfeelslike—ordoesitmerelyseemlike?—ascending to a higher plane. There, numerous booths bask in an intimate dark, adornedwith consoles and cabinets fashioned from natural materials; the spaces appear more organized and separated, occasionally featuring internal passages. The compression of millennia—from stone relics of the Valdivia culture circa 2200BC to Nam June Paik’s TV idol, Andy Warhol and Ben Eine—rekindles a passion for exploration and contemplation.
At the entrance to Frieze Masters, a mechanical garden by the Gagosian gallery is set up, featuring steel sculptures by John Chamberlain (1927-2011) and industrial designer Marc Newson’s (b. 1963)furniture. This dialogue between raw industrial forms and sleekdesignwas orchestrated by the curatorial vision of artist Urs Fischer (b. 1973). Not far away, The Gallery of Everything unveils a portal into the surreal world of Czech artist Eva Švankmajerová (1940-2005), her canvases a delightful subversion of communist-era banality and classical European “nudes in nature.” Further on, Jackson Pollock, Max Ernst, Francis Picabia, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Marc Chagall, Pieter Brueghel the Younger… Mummies and bones.
As they exit, a young woman asks her companion, ’If you had a lot of money, what would you pick to bring home?’ He ponders before replying, ‘The head of a Roman statue… or perhaps, nothing at all.’ Nothing and all.
