Monday, October 19, 2015

I’m Sick in Paris and Working Another Art Fair




I’m sick in Paris and working another art fair and I just don’t even have words. Like literally it is really hard for me to even talk. It’s slightly comical compared to my usual, and at times annoying, verbosity, but the scalding hacking cough and throat pain conjoined with this lack of vocal abilities is just near tragic. In this state I have just arrived to Paris from London, waking up at 4am after de-installing on Sunday for Frieze. I’m whining but this is what I signed up for and what many other gallerists are also doing so I just need to suck it up and put on my game face. If I could last more then fifteen minutes without hacking so much I actually barf sometimes this might be easier but fuck it, even if my body is like die-die-die, when your playing the art game at this level you have to get it together and quick.

Where is this all going? I don’t know. I’m trying to be honest while sitting on the floor of the fair, waiting for touch up paint to come, waiting for the next coughing attack to come. Waiting for 6 o’clock to come so I can leave. Waiting for a cataclysm, waiting for a meteor, waiting for the something in the form of serenity.

I won’t talk about Frieze. I don’t want to talk about Fiac. I’ve talked enough about what I feel about art fairs and I feel the same way now as then. There is just nothing more to remark on it for now. It’s as bad as you think if you are honest. It’s as amazing as you think if you like illusions.

That is something I have been thinking a lot about lately. That word. Illusion. It is something that I think I lack more then others. Arrogant, yes possibly, but I do think this to be true, at least in some ways. The art world is full/actually just is illusion in many/if not all ways. To be a part of it, in any way, is to believe, buy into, support, and continue illusion. So what is illusion? It is smoke and mirrors. It is things that just are even when they are not. It is believing so that you seem to understand. It is accepting so that you won’t get left behind. It is the emperor with no clothes. It is belief that there even is an emperor.

Is this droll enough for you? Well hey, I guess it’s my small attempt to try to articulate, even if just to myself, the overwhelming feeling that has been produced by working more and more art fairs, year after year after year. There is a strange magic to it. The whole thing of it, but it is far more sinister then anyone, everyone, wants to admit. I am not throwing stones at glass houses. Things are what they are. Can that be changed? I am not sure anymore. I think it might be the grandest illusion of all to think things can radically, actually, really change. So maybe I’m the one with the biggest illusion and not enough of the other kinds.

But anyways, besides me being a sick puppy and being grumpy because I can’t sleep for more then 3 hours without a coughing fit, I AM IN PARIS! And I haven’t been since I was 18 with my high school boyfriend. That was many moons ago and I am a very different person then I was, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse but being back in Paris, as what I consider my adult self, is something I look forward too. I hope I can see some of this city in the midst of art fair duties and I hope to experience its art and tenor that is not all internationally imported and packaged.

If anything of note happens or is felt during my time here, I’ll report on it next week.

Till then, enjoy yourself, stay healthy and thank the stars above that you are not miserable coughing me at this moment.