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.
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