A walk into the London Frieze Art Fair

I am an outsider at the art fair. I was always afraid of attending private clubs, entering luxury shops or dining at very expensive restaurants. Not because I don’t like to (or can’t) spend but because… well, I don’t know why, I am just afraid.

So, I knew attending Frieze Art Fair would be a challenge, but I didn’t realise I would want to share the experience. 

So on a mild autumn day, with a positive outlook and a slightly extravagant jacket I marched into a huge white tent more appropriate for a UN refugee camp than a glamorous contemporary art event. After a painful realisation that I have misunderstood what was cryptically written in my ticket, I managed to get in. 

The first thing I saw was the name tag. “Gagosian”. Of course. One of the few galleries that still does make money in the old-school dealing of the art world. The gallery once boasted an incredibly personal approach with clients and artists. But personal touch isn’t the flavour of the month it seems. There are nine artworks on the white walls with no identification marks whatsoever and no people around to talk to and provide any info. The artworks look nice and intense, though moving a step closer you start to suspect they were touched by the hype of AI. 

“Here you can see the latest works of Damian Hurst, which he did in collaboration with AI. The larger ones are going for $9XXk” - says a man, dressed in a black turtleneck and a black hat (wasn’t there a rule that gentleman can’t be wearing a hat inside?). He is a guide for a small group, who, like myself, prefer a bit more context. 

Well, that is fine, let me try to find the leftovers of a personal approach elsewhere. Walking further inside there is a maze of white carton walls, heavily decorated with various art pieces. Each white box belongs to a gallery representing the artists. Between those carton walls there are flows of sometimes a bit cartoonish people. Women, who could easily come in a sport suit into the opera, showcasing here their full extravaganza. Sharp heels, bright colours, glossy looks, some could well be artworks themselves. Or does it require more than a glossy look to be an artwork these days? 

I decide to talk to several gallerists to figure that out. I am intrigued and attracted by several paintings with a figure of a woman floating on her back, surrounded by some lush greenery. I come closer trying to look relaxed but equally give a sign to a gallerist that I want to be talked to. 

• “I am really captivated by this stained silky green as the background for the feminine figure, could you tell me a bit more about this work?’ 
• “Well, Artist in mainly interested in truth and femininity. She was exploring the main feminine character from a famous British play, her name is…one second…”
• “Ophelia?”
• “Exactly! And this is a tragic story both in the play and in the history of the making of another painting, which served as an inspiration for this one. The artist was from a pre-Raphaelite circle … M… one second…”
• “Millais?”
• “Yes! He was painting his Ophelia flowing down the river and made his model, whom he loved, to float in the cold bath in the middle of winter. The water was so cold that his beloved caught a cold and died. This is a symbol of feminine sacrifice. 
• “But are you sure she actually died? I seem to remember she recovered well. In any case, appreciate the story. Let me further enjoy the details and the colours”

I spent five more minutes recalling the ambivalent nature of Millais Ophelia with her divine hands and erotic half opened mouth. Ophelia in front of me was surprisingly cold and inward-looking. 

I make a move. I pass another booth and get drawn to the rich and dense concentration of colour and matter beneath a glass surface. Under a static glass, it seems there is energy pouring from beneath. I am wondering what technique is used to create this delicious texture. There is no trace of a sign with any information neither about artist nor about the artworks. It is lunchtime, so the gallerist seems to be consumed with food. Well, we need to make priorities in life. 

After speaking to several more gallerists about works that captivated me, I notice that most of them have an obsession with names. They threw multiple names at me assuming I am familiar with all of them. At first, I just felt stupid, then awkward, then angry. Of course, I do want to be more well-versed and educated on the matter, but I don’t like to be pushed. My brain started to ask why exactly it should memorise all those names as 99% of them will be ground by the machine of time. My brain, with its limited capacity, has a point, I guess. Shouldn’t I be impressed by the work first before remembering the name? Shouldn’t the encounter precede memorisation? 

But can you encounter anything in this strange white cartoonish space? Encounter requires the production of an intense feeling of presence, here and now. I could neither feel nor be present in that crowded kaleidoscope of people, voices, and objects. I asked myself which artworks I felt the most? I couldn’t answer.

I sat down on a bench wondering in my thoughts back to Ukraine, the frontline, to Israeli and Palestinian villages that are getting destroyed at the same moment. 

I looked around and imagined that all this pavilion, (without people), is blown up. 

Do I feel smth now? Would I try to save any of these artworks? 

«Хочешь котлетку [do you want a meatball]?» - my weird thoughts were interrupted by the dialogue between two students. I do actually. I am very tired and hungry. I start to make my way out to the “Masters” pavilion on the other side of the Regent’s park. 

While I walk, the interrupted questions come back. 

• Did any of these artworks mean anything to me from the first impression? 
• I guess some did speak to me. Was I able to hear them in the chaos of an art fair? Where would I want to talk with them next time? 
• Can I fall in love from the first impression? 
• Or do I need to feel a genuine story behind each work that captured my eye? 
• How much value can I attach if I can’t feel and contemplate the meaning of the work and what it tells me about myself? 
• And ultimately, what is the role of all those artworks and by extension art in my own life?