Artborne Magazine October 2016 | Page 48

Review Art or Nah? by Stephanie D’Ercole Last December, I took my annual pilgrimage to South Florida to suffer through the crowds and traffic and attend Art Basel Miami Beach. Though the official Art Basel event takes place in the Miami Beach Convention Center, there is a veritable plethora of art-centric events going on in the area. From Wynwood warehouse galleries open late and to the public, to exclusive, invite-only parties on South Beach with beautiful and bored looking people in attendance, the spectrum of possibilities is colorful and diverse. There is a camp of “Baselers” who swear by the idea of rebelliously foregoing the actual Art Basel show and, instead, visiting all the others: Scope Miami Beach, NADA Art Fair Miami Beach, Red Dot Miami...the list goes on. The sheer volume of things to do during Miami Art Week means that even in lieu of Art Basel, an entirely full schedule of things to experience is easily coordinated. Not one to easily quell my FoMO (fear of missing out), I dutifully shell out the funds for a Basel ticket every time I’m there. What if I miss the next big thing in art? I conjecture each time. Pares Impares (even odds), by Cildo Meireles year’s Basel would reveal. As the idea of art is ever-evolving—as concepts are constantly being distilled and presented in new ways— one of the world’s largest art fairs seems to be a prime venue to explore both existing and nascent theories. Traversing the labyrinthine layout of the convention center, the sensory overload is dizzying. In booth after booth, galleries from around the world showcase their On Saturday, having already taken in the im- prized works in the hopes of making a sale, mense array of talent featured at Scope Miami or at the very least, an impactful impression. Beach, I had lofty aspirations for what the From Matisse to Meireles, the diversity of the movements, styles, and mediums Art or Nah? (pt. 1) exhibited provides that there is something for everyone’s tastes. 47 A few hours into my afternoon of Baseling, a voice came on the intercom system warning that everyone would soon have to leave for the day. I began to feel panicked that I hadn’t yet absorbed as much as I could, and started to briskly walk through the remaining booths to ensure nothing was left unseen; speed-dating for art. At regular intervals, the omnipresent voice would remind attendees that time was running out. Gallerists were starting to shut down for the day—some putting up the velvet ropes of exclusivity; others, entire walls of curtains, as if they were protecting the art from being exposed to the impetuous critiques of last-minute visitors. As everyone was being ushered out of the convention center—more forcefully, now, by actual people rather than an anonymous voice looming above—my quick pace turned into a jog. I passed by a gallery booth that had already closed for the day, and just outside of it on the floor sat a tied-up, plastic, drugstore shopping bag. I stopped in my tracks and marveled at the bag for a moment. Without giving it much thought, I took a photograph and posted it on Instagram (geotagged to provide context) with the pithy caption, “Art or nah?” It was well-received by my diverse and erudite group of friends who understood the humor in it. Some even grasped the deeper, Neo-Dadaist meaning behind it. Yet, a century after the Dadaists challenged the idea of what makes art, art...the answer didn’t seem to be any clearer. This bag could have easily been placed on a pedestal in a gallery and lauded by art critics, collectors, and admirers alike. It was as unassuming and banal as plenty of other works I had seen that day, on walls and sculpture stands, being touted as “real” art. So, who was to say that this bag on the floor was any less a work of art? Maybe its modest presentation was an intentional move by the artist. After all, it was housed in a building that, for a few days every year, boasts some of the greatest art in the world. If the bag had been out on the street, and suddenly accessible to anyone, would its significance suddenly change? Is a work’s association with the elitism and limited accessibility of events like Art Basel what adds to its value? Would Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain (a porcelain urinal simply signed “R. www.ARTBORNEMAGAZINE.com