Darke Gallery is closing. Ratio, a group show featuring Jonathan Clark, Tara Conley, Allison Hunter, Catherine Colangelo, Heath Brodie, Nicholas Auger and Sophie Clyde, is the their last. It opens this Friday.
Allison Hunter, still from Honey Bee, 2011, 3D stereoscopic color video with sound, RT 7.5 min
Darke Gallery is closing because gallery owner Linda Darke is having serious health problems which will require two surgeries and lengthy recovery time. She told me, "I wanted to make it clear that the gallery was for the most part a great
experience. And that I wasn't closing because it is too hard to make a
commercial gallery operate at a profit in Houston."
Kathryn Kelley's sculpture outside Darke Gallery
Darke Gallery opened in 2007. It's in a strange location, pretty far from all the other galleries in town. When I started going there, there was a big empty lot across the street that made parking easy. But their neighborhood, Rice Military, has been built up so quickly that empty lots don't last. Parking was a bit of a pain after they filled that lot with townhouses.
Darke Gallery was fairly adventurous for a commercial gallery. "I very much enjoyed being able to create the artist in residence
program. It gave me the chance to put on wonderful exhibitions for
Emily Sloan, Kathy Kelley, Joshua Goode and other artists whose work
would not normally be shown in commercial spaces," Darke said. (Most of the photos here are from Kathryn Kelley's show in 2011, which featured an amazing installation. There are few other galleries in town that would exhibit an installation like that.) As a gallery goer, I appreciated Darke Gallery's willingness to take this kind of risk.
Kathryn Kelley wall pieces
By my count, The Great God Pan Is Dead wrote about 11 Darke Gallery shows starting in October 2009, shortly after the blog began. I think my favorite pieces were Dean Liscum's review of Baby Ruth in a Swimming Pool by Emily Sloan and my piece on John Adelman.
That's Linda, seen from inside a Kathryn Kelley installation. She intends to stick around--"I will continue to be involved in the Houston art scene, once I get this
medical stuff resolved I am going to plan my come back. I may reopen Darke Gallery in a new space, focus on art fairs or pop up exhibitions.
As I said in my note, the art scene is changing so fast, I think there
are a lot of exciting possibilities. And we have an apartment in NYC so
we'll be able to spend more time there. (I threw that in so that you
can't feel sorry for me!)" I already look forward to her triumphant return.
This weekend was the beginning of the fall season, when most of the commercial art galleries and a lot of the non-profit spaces have openings. An exhilarating, exhausting time, it is also a time to take stock. What's changed since the last time I wrote one of these posts? A lot. Bryan Miller Gallery in Isabella Courts closed. Sicardi Gallery opened their beautiful new space on Alabama, and New Gallery took the space next to P.G. Contemporary on Milam. (And the old Sicardi Gallery space on Richmond is being used for the moment by next-door neighbor McClain Gallery, but I don't know if that's permanent.) But that's all relatively old news. What's new to me is that Peel Gallery has apparently closed. Last weekend, instead of the usual Peel Gallery show (which I thought were often excellent), there was a pop-up exhibit by Nick Barbee. I emailed Peel Gallery for a confirmation, but did not get a response in time for posting. (Update: Peel Gallery confirmed their closure. Owner Steven Hempel is running Hempel Design and will be installing a Gabriel Dawe piece at the Houston Fine Art Fair.)
Also exiting the scene is Goldesberry Gallery, which had their final opening this weekend. The gallery will remain open through Christmas to sell off its remaining inventory. Owners Oliver and Nancy Goldesberry are retiring. They opened the gallery in 1991 and have made a good run selling inventive and artistic craft items here in Houston. The role that Goldesberry Gallery plays locally is not one that I think can be easily replicated. You need a gallerist who is an expert on what is happening in the world of ceramics or jewelry or glass, etc. This kind of work gets a short shrift in the art world. Indeed, "craft" itself is highly suspect--partly I think for class reasons. Art has graduated in some ways into on one hand, a kind of practice of philosophical inquiry, and philosophers don't do manual labor, no siree. And on the other hand, art has become a kind of management practice, where the artist conceives a project but has it executed and fabricated by someone else. That's the opposite of the craft ideal, which has been represented in Houston for 21 years by Goldesberry.
To counter all this bad news, some good news is that David Shelton Gallery has moved to Houston, taking the spot formerly occupied by Bryan Miller Gallery.. (Good news for Houston, but maybe bad news for San Antonio.) Shelton had a temporary show here last year, but now he's making it permanent. His gallery was located in San Antonio for five years, so moving is kind of a big deal. I asked him about it, and he acknowledged the advantages of Houston, most important of which is that it's a bigger market. That's one problem with Austin and San Antonio--they're pretty big cities, but the number of art collectors in each makes it hard for galleries to succeed. Art Palace moved to Houston from Austin, and Shelton has now made the same migration from San Antonio.
Shelton opened his new space with a group show of gallery artists. I thought the work was pretty interesting, and that makes me look forward to seeing solo exhibits by some of these artists. Here are some of my favorite pieces from the show.
Margaret Meehan, The Pugilist, 2011, archival inkjet prints
These bizarre photos by Margaret Meehan feature a young, very pale woman with very light hair and, bizarrely, facial hair that looks more animal-like than human. That alone would make you stop and take notice, as would the puffy-sleeved dress she is wearing. But the white boxing gloves and rather brutal before-and-after nature really make the Pugilist uncanny. The model, Amy Revier, is as far as I can determine a very pale artist who does not, in fact, have fur on her face.
Margaret Meehan, The Haymakers, 2012, cabinet cards, vintage glitter glass, gouche, latex paint
The Haymakers also features hairy-faced women--this time vintage photos of women with gouche and glitter hairdos. The title of the series likewise seems to reference boxing (or fist-fighting in general).
Margaret Meehan, The Haymakers (detail), 2012, cabinet cards, vintage glitter glass, gouche, latex paint
I keep thinking about side-shows and carnivals when I see these images of hairy-faced women. But I don't have a clue what they mean. I can only say that they linger in my mind.
James Smolleck, Sphere with fixed stars, 2012, ink and acrylic on paper, 50" x 38 1/2"
I also liked James Smolleck'sSphere with fixed stars, which came across as Medieval and esoteric, like the illustration in some ancient book on astrology or alchemy.
Kelly O'Connor, Launch Pad, collage of found paper and images, 26 1/2" x 41"
Launch Pad by Kelly O'Connor juxtaposed a washed-out photo of a mighty impressive piece of equipment with a brightly colored (and glittery) pattern composed of hexagons. It's as if she is suggesting, if you are going to make a piece of equipment this huge and this powerful, why not go the extra mile and make it spectacular looking?
Michael Velliquette, Skin and Bones, cut card stock, bristol board, and glue, 42" x 32" x 6"
When you go to Michael Velliquette's website, the first image you see is of random bits of paper and board, a pair of scissors, and an Xacto knife. Skin and Bones is the result of this kind of work--a bravura construction of cut paper. Skin and Bones has a somewhat totemic look as if we are looking at a representation of a god of some hitherto unknown culture.
"Someone once asked me, how do you define a collector? I've always said the way you define one is a collector is someone who keeps on buying art when the walls are full. Until then, you're doing interior decorating - on a high level, but you're doing decorating. When you keep on buying, that's when you're a collector." ["Oral history interview with André Emmerich, 1993 Jan. 18", interview with Mona Hadler from the Smithsonian Archives of American Art]
André Emmerich was a gallerist in New York who specialized in Color Field painters.
Don't tell the IOC, but Brian Piana is making unauthorized Olympics art. In his patented style, he is using the conversation about the Olympics on Twitter to create these Frank Stella-like concentric squares. He writes:
Medals (After Stella) pulls its composition cues from Twitter, presenting a changing array of
concentric squares in gold, silver, and bronze. The piece searches
Twitter for recent tweets containing the words “olympics”, “medal”, and
at least one of the three medal colors. New qualifying tweets appear in
the outer-most ring and are subsequently pushed towards the center.
In spring, I visited various Austin art establishments and one that impressed me a lot was Tiny Park, an apartment gallery in North Austin. Last night, Tiny Park made the transition to being a storefront gallery. It's not quite what I'd call a full-fledged gallery--the owners/directors, Brian Willey and Thao Votang, both have full-time jobs which means the gallery is only open on Saturdays and occasionally during the week for special events. But it's ambitious, and I respect anyone who tries to do anything serious with art while maintaining a full-time job (which, after all, is the "business model" of The Great God Pan Is Dead).
The opening, which was a "greatest hits" show rather than an exhibit of all new work, was well-attended. Jaime S. Castillo told me that roughly half the people there were the type of people who would show up to Tiny Park openings in the old apartment location, and the other half were people who showed up for gallery events but had never made the trek out to the old, relatively obscure location. (This was a very rough estimate on his part.)
Austin's gallery scene seems to always be in a state of struggle. (Not that it's a walk in the park in Houston.) I heard lamentations about Art Palace's move to Houston--and that happened two years ago. So Tiny Park is fulfilling an important role. I hope the responsibility isn't to much for them!
Even though it's an official white cube gallery now, it still retains a bit of the old apartment gallery vibe. Like these cookies, baked in the shape of their red Christmas tree logo.
I had seen a lot of the art here the last time I visited. But there were also pieces that were new to me that I liked a lot.
Miguel Aragón, Retrato #4, Tabla de Yesa, hand drilled drywall, 65" x 48"
My first reaction to this piece by Miguel Aragónwas that this was some random piece of garbage--a chunk of damaged drywall from a construction site. In short, a typical piece of "post-craft" art. But I was quite wrong, because facing it was this piece:
Miguel Aragón, Retrato #4, Matriz, hand drilled paper with xerox, 65" x 48"
So the drywall was a part of the process to make this piece. And the process is itself part of the piece. When you realize this, you can see the face emerging out of the drill-holes in the drywall. And the face itself is disturbing--it appears to be the face of a corpse. The damaged quality of both pieces invokes a sense of violence, and the way the image--which looks like a blow up from a newspaper photo--is partially erased reminds me of the work of Oscar Muñoz.
Deborah Stratman, Fear (Call Center v. 2), 2012, mixed media
Fear was in the bathroom. This piece by Deborah Stratman is one that you yourself can experience by calling 1-800-585-1078 and describing your greatest fear. Stratman has been cataloging these fears since 2004. She plans to continue doing so until 2014. What will happen then, I don't know. But until then, it might be therapeutic to tell an answering machine the thing you fear the most.
Michael Sieben, Abandoned Ladder to Heaven Sculpture, 2011, mixed media
Michael Sieben's Abandoned Ladder to Heaven Sculpture was the funniest piece in the exhibit. The ambitious goal (a ladder to Heaven) is lazily undermined. It made me think of the dream of Jacob in Genesis 28:10-19, of course, and Bernini's Ecstacy of St. Teresa, but filtered through a slacker consciousness. Instead of being an ecstatic visionary like Jacob or St. Teresa, the builder of this ladder to heaven is a lazy slob who completes three and a half rungs before giving up and leaving his tools strewn on the floor. In a way, it could be read as an allegory of certain contemporary art practices--the willingness to half-ass the job as long as the concept is minimally communicated (or not). But's that's my gripe, and Sieben might not have been thinking about that at all.
When I read that the Aurora Picture Show was moving over to 2442 Bartlett St. behind the Deborah Colton Gallery, my first thought was that whatever improvement this new space provided for the Aurora Picture Show, the real winner was Deborah Colton Gallery. The reason for this is that instead of one visual arts destination in that spot, there are now two. And that means that when people come to check out one of the venues, they have the opportunity to simultaneously check out the second venue. Now this doesn't easily work in the case of Deborah Colton Gallery and the Aurora Picture Show because Aurora is about showing movies--time based artworks with specific starting times. You can't just wander into the Aurora picture show the same way you can a museum or art gallery.
Anyway, my gut feeling is that when you have visual art institutions (public or private) within sight of other art institutions, you can get this cluster effect. I define a cluster of at least two art spaces, within sight of and walking distance of one another. Visiting an art gallery or museum generally requires someone drive (or bike) to it--to make a dedicated trip, in other words. But if there is a second gallery there, the marginal effort required to visit the second art space is practically nil. Might as well, right? Consequently, it seems to me that clustering is always good, all other things being equal. There's a reason that so many galleries in New York City are right next to each other on a small number of parallel streets in Chelsea.
I like that when I make the rounds, I can see more than one exhibit at any one of these clusters. But the question I have is, does clustering actually help? This is the kind of question that a solid urbanist armed with the history of gallery openings and closings in Houston could probably answer statistically. Maybe I'll delve into that someday. I will say that since I started this blog, none of the institutions in clusters have shut their doors except for Joan Wich's gallery, which died when she did. But isolated, non-clustered institutions have had problems. Apama Mackey Gallery shut down and the New World Museum seems to be sputtering along. (Both of these still exist on varying levels--in the world of galleries and art spaces, life and death are not binary terms.) That said, Hiram Butler Gallery is still thriving in its weird (but beautiful) out-of-the-way location. Box 13 and the Pearl Fincher Museum seem to be making a go of it without any art neighbors.
There are probably some rules for clusters. The visual arts spaces can't be too dissimilar, for example. You can't expect to have synergies if you put a cutting edge art space next to a gallery specializing in paintings of bluebonnets. Or a poster shop next to a blue chip art gallery. And there has to be a minimal amount of coordination. If one gallery has an opening and the rest of the galleries are closed, they don't get any cluster benefits at that moment.
I was speaking to Britt Ragsdale last night, and she told me that clustering was the who idea behind The Lens Capsule. By taking their mobile gallery space and parking next to an opening, they created their own temporary cluster effect. She also told me that she had considered starting an artist-run space a few doors down from Box 13, thinking that the clustering effect would benefit both institutions. (The rent turned out to be too steep for her. And I assume that when the light rail line is completed, rents along that stretch of Harrisburg will blow up.)
I apologize to all readers about how much death there has been on this blog lately. With Moebius, Dale Yarger, Ken Price, Charlie Stagg and Mike Kelley, it's been a parade of obituaries around here. With Dale, I've been lucky to be in contact with so many other people who loved him. I never knew Charlie Stagg, but since he died, I've heard so many good stories about the man that I really wish I had.
Unfortunately, Death didn't head down to Padre for Spring Break. Dianne David, Toni Beauchamp and Mark Aguhar all died recently. You might not be familiar with all three of these names, but each one is a person who had an affect on Houston's art, and each represents a different generation.
The Dianne David Gallery with a Roy Fridge show from 1966
Dianne David (1938 or 39 to 2012) was the founder of an early modern gallery in Houston, David Gallery. The David Gallery existed from 1963 until 1982 and gave the first Houston shows to a wide range of artists, including Dorman David (her brother), Bob Camblin, Lucas Johnson, Earl Staley, Roy Fridge, Jim Love, David McManaway, Charles Pebworth, Donald Roller Wilson, William
T. Wiley, Larry Rivers, Seymour Leichmann, and Guy Johnson. And that's about all I know about it (and her). But this is enough. These are some of the most important artists to emerge in Houston during the 60s and 70s. Gallerists who show local artists are important--they are gatekeepers and taste-makers. Starting a gallery that shows contemporary cutting-edge art by Houston artists is never a sure thing, and in 1963 it must have seemed an extremely risky enterprise indeed. Thank goodness Dianne David did it.
Good, an anthology of writings about Houston edited by Toni Beauchamp
Toni Beauchamp (1945 to 2012) had a definable effect on Houston and its art, but it's hard to put one label on her. Glasstire called her a "patron," but she was much more than that. Even though she and Dianne David were born less than 10 years apart, David started her gallery young (she was 24 or 25) while Beauchamp waited a long time to make her mark. That's why I count them as belonging to different generations. David was a pioneer. Beauchamp's work built on the work of pioneers. For example, her MA thesis was about James Johnson Sweeney, the director of the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston in the 60s, who brought the museum into the modern age. This kind of
local art history continued in many of the publications she worked on
for the Blaffer, where she was an assistant director. She was instrumental in bringing modern public art to Houston, and served on the boards of many key local arts institutions. And she edited one of the best books about Houston, Good. When she died, she was working on a similar book about Marfa, which is on schedule to be published.
Mark Aguhar, Transy Girlfriend Looks (Colin S.), watercolor, ink, gouache & lipstick on paper, 2011
Mark Aguhar (1987 to 2012) was a young artist whose work I had seen only once, at Lawndale in a solo exhibit called M2M in early 2011. I didn't write about that show because its theme of gay male sexuality was something I couldn't relate to. I felt like anything I wrote would lack insight, to say the least. Aguhar was from Houston and studied art at UT. When she died, she was getting her MFA at the University of Illinois. Aguhar, like many artists of her generation, had a large presence online. Aside from her professional web page where you can see her many drawings and sculptures, she had a blog, Blogging for Brown Gurls. Its subtitle was "I'm starting a new blog and it's all about self-acceptance." It's terrible when someone so young dies--and when it's an artist, we are left wondering what kind of work lay in his future that will now never be made.
Days like this make you feel like death is stalking Houston. Drink a toast tonight to David, Beauchamp and Aguhar, OK?
This might be your one and only chance to show your art in a Chelsea gallery before you have to give art up and take a job in your Dad's office. Just sayin'.
Peter de La Fuente, who sells his family's artworks as well as his own
at the Wyeth Hurd Gallery, said he's never seen it slower.
"If you go out on Palace Avenue, you can look down and there's nobody in
that portal going down to the Plaza. It's almost in a vacuum right
now," he said. "There are times in the year that I feel like I've got a
very nice office with very excellent art on the wall."
De La Fuente, the grandson of Peter Hurd and the great-grandson of M.C.
Wyeth, was among several dealers to use the language of the Occupy
movement.
"I hate to be a snob, but what we're getting now is a bunch of 99
percenters, and they're very appreciative, but they're not collectors,"
he said. "The people who are collectors, my clients, are the 1 percent,
people who can afford art and fine art and expensive art. ...
There's a new gallery in town, Heights Art Gallery (no website yet, but you can visit them at 3202 White Oak), and I went to their opening party last night. It was quite a scene.
I would say that Heights Gallery is positioning itself to be the La Luz de Jesus of Houston. (In fact, I would suggest that Heights Gallery try to establish a cooperative relationship with La Luz, which has 25 years of success in Los Angeles behind it. Maybe the two galleries could share Solomon Kane!) It is going for a somewhat less highbrow style than, say, Wade Wilson Gallery. It's the opposite of the "white cube." Its esthetic is more informed by the Art Car esthetic.
Noah Edmundson, director of the Art Car Museum, and Tracy Pierce, director of the Heights Art Gallery
Now me, I love the white cube gallery. I just bought a Linda Post video sculpture at Art Palace, which is a white wall gallery cubed. And when I described it to a friend of mine at the Heights Gallery fiesta, he said, "These guys will never sell a TV in a sock." True! But I think Houston needs some funky people's art, too.
It looks like it will be huge! Considering how modest their current gallery is, that will be a big change. And sitting across from the Menil parking lot and the Houston Center for Photography will likely increase walk-in traffic (not that they sell artworks to many walk-in customers, I'm sure). In fact, I'd say that the stretch of Alabama between Mandel and Graustark is a great place for galleries. People could park at the Menil, go check out the scene there, swing by the HCP, and then check out Sicardi and whatever other gallery moves in. It's not like this stretch of Alabama is already dense with businesses or residences--there's even a very large empty lot along the north side of the street.
But what about Sicardi's current space? The word on the street is that Thom Andriola's New Gallery will be moving there from its current Colquitt location. One could make a lot of speculations about the pluses and minuses of such a move, but let's stick to facts. And one fact is that it is a move from a huge space to a substantially smaller space.
So what about New Gallery's Colquitt space? More word on the street is that Scott Peveto, formerly director of McClain Gallery, will be starting his own gallery in that space. Previously it had been rumored that his new space would be on Milam next to PG Contemporary, in the space where we mounted the Pan y Circos show. But Colquitt is probably a safer choice, given all the galleries already there. (Scott Peveto is perhaps best known for closing down Walter's on Washington--but I'm not sure that's the same "Scott Peveto.") I don't know what the timeline for all this is, but pretty soon, given the state of the new Sicardi building.
Meanwhile, while it is a disappointment for PG Contmporary that Peveto is not opening his gallery next door (because two galleries is more of a "destination" than one gallery), they are still forging ahead by moving next door to their current location into a space that is easily twice as large. It will, in fact, allow PG Contemporary to put up two shows at once if they want to. The new space will be open next week for their David Lozano show.
Is this an indicator of Houston's economy improving? Two new galleries in the early part of 2012? (Two and a half, if you count the PG Contempory expansion.) The economist in me says that art gallery openings and closings are probably a trailing indicator of economic prosperity. Some real economist should do a study of this.
This is a map I made of Houston Art Landmarks a while back. I've added a few things and updated a few things. Please let me know if there is anything I'm missing (I would be shocked if there weren't) or any mistakes I've made.
Here's the legend: Snowflakes--These are museums and non-profit art spaces Suns--These are (more-or-less) commercial galleries Comedy-Tragedy
Masks--These are art spaces that are not primarily devoted to visual
art but include it (performing arts spaces, cafes, etc.) Red Avalanche--Pieces of public art Green Arrow & Star--Lawn art--privately owned art in people's yard or homes that can be seen from the street Dollar Sign--Art on the outside of businesses (sculptures, murals, etc.) Anchors--Art schools and/or studios Water waves--art in or on religious structures/institutions Telephones--Any other art-related place that doesn't fit into the above categories
So why the hell am I still writing about this? The Houston Fine Art Fair is so last week. I already covered it here and here. What else is there to say?
Well, plenty. Don't look for a thesis here. But I do want to discuss the art that was on display, the business that was done, the reaction of Houston to it. This is Houston's first art fair and mine as well. From what I've read, the expansion of art fairs was due to the encroachment of auction houses on galleries. Auction houses used to deal exclusively in old art, but in the 70s they tentatively stepped into the world of contemporary art. They had something that galleries couldn't provide--market pricing. This is not to say that auction houses are totally transparent, but at least the prices reported represent more or less what the market, at a given moment, is willing to pay for a given artist. These secondary market sales ate at the galleries' business. Art Fairs were a new way for galleries to market their work.
One of the best conversations I had at the show was with Debra Pesci, associate director at Hollis Taggart Galleries. Hollis Taggart shows postwar art with an emphasis on pop art. The prices for the work were not cheap, as one might imagine. Nonetheless, Pesci told me they sold three pieces. I asked her if that was enough to make it worth coming, and she bluntly replied, "No."
Pesci explained the difference between an established art fair (like the Armory Show or ArtBasel) and something like this fair. "In New York or in Basel, it's like a frenzy when they come in. There's a definite interest in buying right away, and also in being seen buying. In this area it's far more discreet. It's something that's much more thought about. [It] doesn't always make it viable for businesses to participate."
So given this, the question was, would Hollis Taggart be back? Pesci said, " I think it would be something we definitely would consider. I think that you need to establish an art fair more than one year. You establish the art fair's identity and your identity within the art fair so that people know who you are.
"It's getting a public to understand that this is more than just coming to look; it's coming to make acquisitions. That sounds really basic, but sometimes for new fairs, that's not always the case."
She made a point that coming to a new art fair was an investment because there was a learning curve for attendees. I hope they come back next year, because Hollis Taggart had one of the nicest booths. They had several works by Marjorie Strider and Idelle Weber. I saw their work last winter in New York in Seductive Subversion: Women Pop Artists 1958-1968. This is one of those shows where artists who failed to get "cannonized" the first time around get a second chance--and it was an eye-opener.
Idelle Weber, Step Sisters, acrylic on linen, 1964
Idelle Weber was one of the artists who really impressed me most in the Brooklyn Museum show.
Idelle Weber,Lever Building 2, collage and Gouache on Color-aid paper, 1970
Does this look semi-familiar? Here's what it reminds me of:
Mad Men title sequence
Mad Men title sequence
The Mad Men title sequence was put together by a group called Imaginary Forces, and they won an Emmy for it. I wonder if they thanked Idelle Weber when they accepted the award?
Hollis Taggart was not typical in their responses to my questions. The other galleries were all much more upbeat, but less specific. I was particularly interested in hearing from the Latin American galleries. After all, coming in from New York or Miami is much less expensive and difficult than coming from Bogata or Buenos Aires. One gallery that had work I liked a lot was Ginocchio Gallery from Mexico City.
Hugo Lugo,Estudio para marcar el camino, gouche y tinta sobre papel algodon calado, 2011
I spoke to Karen Pozos from Ginocchio. One thing that struck me was that Ginochio's art fair strategy was quite different from Hollis Taggart. Hollis Taggart goes to five art fairs a year, while Ginocchio goes to ten. One might conclude that art fair sales are a much more important part of Ginocchio's total revenue than Hollis Taggart's. They loved the Houston Fine Art Fair. I asked Pozos if they would be returning next year, and she immediately said yes, adding, "We kind of already decided that even before we had sold anything that we would want to come back again." And they did get some sales. But they had an advantage of having relative inexpensive works. The drawings by Hugo Lugo, for example, were available for $5000. That's nothing to sneeze at for ordinary folks, but compared to some of the more blue chip pieces for sale at the fair, it was a relative bargain.
Hugo Lugo, Estudio Para Desprenderse, gouche, tinta y hilo sobre papel algodon calado, 2011
I liked Lugo's work. The two pieces above look as if he painted on lined pages torn from a spiral-bound notebook. But he didn't--those pages are 29.5 inches high. In other words, he took paper, carefully cut out the holes and tore each one, and also carefully ruled out the blue lines. In the case of Estudio Para Desprenderse, Lugo went further--the blue lines are actually blue thread, sewn into the paper.
Hugo Lugo, Estudio Para Desprenderse detail, gouche, tinta y hilo sobre papel algodon calado, 2011
In addition to these spiral notebook pieces on paper, the gallery included one on canvas.
Hugo Lugo, Boceta Para Transformar una Memoria, acrílico y oléo sobre tela, 2010
I'm assuming that the other Latin American galleries are in the same boat. They have to go to art fairs because they can't count on American and European collectors to visit their galleries in person. And Houston might have seemed like prime ground for their art--after all, the MFAH has made it an important part of their mission to collect lots of Latin American art.
Of course, like every gallery here, the work in the Latin American galleries was hit or miss. Enjoy Coke by Gaston Ugalde at Salar Galeria de Arte from La Paz, Bolivia, was worth a chuckle.
Something to hang on your wall and you hoover some Bolivian marching powder, hmmm? Actually, I can't imagine anyone hanging this--it seems like an expensive bit of joke art. I talked to the folks from Salar Galeria. They explained that the underside of the coca leaf was light while the top was dark, hence the two tones used in this collage. They also said that because the leaves were coated with some clear resin or something, they would never fade in color. Yeah, right. If you bought this piece and the leaves did turn brown, what would you do? Go to La Paz and get your money back?
In contrast to this was the work at Document-Art Gallery from Buenos Aires. It was a brave booth. There was really no obvious eye-candy there. Here is the broken English of their website describing their mission:
Founded in Buenos Aires in 2009, Document-art is highly committed to search, identify and valorize not only works, but documents art-related, which become essential to understand conceptual movement in Latin America So we not also represent a number of artists that are continuing the tradition of Art in Latin America, but also research the world looking for unique documental material that supports and emphasize those works of art.
(I would have translated the Spanish version, but it was missing!) OK, if you can past the rough English, and if you, like me, are interested in conceptual art, you can see that this is simultaneously fascinating and, well, uncommercial! And yet, they hit multiple art fairs every year. I thought the booth, decorated with photos of artists and covers of obscure journals and manifestos, was very exciting.
Horacio Zabala, Hoy el Arte es una Cárcel, pencil on folded tracing paper, 1972
This sentiment, which echoes such gestures as John Baldessari burning his old paintings in 1970, is not what I expected to see at an art fair. One thing that was amazing about this art fair is that your could see art from the past 70-odd years of Latin American art--Wilfredo Lam and Joaquin Torres Garcia, constructivist work from various countries, and 70s conceptual work like Horacio Zabala's (and Milton Becerra's, who I will return to later) as well as work produced this year.
One gallery I liked a lot was YAM Gallery from San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. I spoke with curator Melanie Harris de Maycotte about their appearance at this fair. I asked her if the show had paid for itself, and she said, "It will. By the time we leave, it will have." She pointed out that they were working with museums (which ones, I wonder?) who don't buy pieces on the spot. This didn't occur to me--not only are galleries marketing to collectors, but also to museums--and museums have a different way of buying art than collectors. When asked whether they would return next year, she said absolutely. YAM Gallery is relatively new (6 years old), and unlike Document-Art or Ginocchio, they are just starting to dip their toes into the art fair world. The Houston Fine Art Fair is the second fair they have ever been to.
Adam Chamandy, self portrait, not sure about the media or date
Adam Chamandy, self portrait detail, not sure about the media or date
I liked Adam Chamandy's big self-portrait, and liked especially that the image was constructed completely of the word art, written small and by hand. It's the ne plus ultra of self-referentiality.
Latin American art was also very well represented in galleries from Miami. For instance, I really dug this piece by Argentine artist Daniel Gonzales at Diana Lowenstein Fine Arts.
Daniel Gonzalez, Love Song, hand-sewn sequins on canvas, 2011
I honestly like it, but at the same time, it seems like the kind of work that panders to the art fair audience. It's sparkly and sexy and in English. On the other hand, Colectivo MR makes a work that can be read as a criticism of cultural colonialism.
They put indigenous Andean people, dressed in clothes that seem (to this gringo) like highly formal indigenous garb, into a box at a theater or opera. The box seats represent class distinctions, but so, in a way, do the beautiful and elegant clothes they are wearing. Within their culture, these seem to be people of status. The juxtaposition of the embroidery on their clothes and the baroque gilt decoration of the box make this a more complicated piece than one might expect. So how did this work end up in an art fair? Well, I think the answer is simple--it is beautiful and visually striking.
Milton Becerra, Analysis of a process over time, photographs and video, 1976-77
"Beautiful" is not the word that comes to mind with Milton Becerra's work in the Hardcore Art Contemporary Space booth. The work consists of black strips of cloth hung in parallel lines in and on damaged buildings. Becerra was responding to art of his time--minimal art, constructivism, etc.,--which seemed removed from ordinary concerns. Obviously one thinks of Daniel Buren, but a better comparison would be Lygia Clark and Hélio Oiticica in Brazil, two constructivist who abandoned pure abstraction to bring objects and performance into the world in which they lived.
The location of the photos is Longaray El Valle, a neighborhood in Caracas Venezuela. My understanding was that the government forced the inhabitants of the neighborhood to vacate it and move into new government housing projects. This kind of slum clearance/rehousing was a world-wide project in the post-war period, drawing equal support from the left (removing the poor from tenements owned by slumlords to supposedly better places to live) and the right (freeing valuable land for development and concentrating the underclass into narrowly proscribed areas). And artists of all stripes were there to record these events (for example, Muswell Hillbillies by The Kinks--for all you rock and rollers out there). Becerra's art in a sense criticizes then current art movements and artists for their apparent indifference, at least as it was reflected by their art. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Carlos Cruz-Diez!
Milton Becerra, Analysis of a process over time, photographs and video, 1976-77
I spoke with Nina Fuentes, the owner of Hardcore Art Contemporary Space in Miami. I remarked on the daringly uncommercial nature of the work (at least it seemed so to my eyes). It was political, it was not pretty, it incorporated video, etc. Nonetheless, she said the show had gone very well for them. She said she planned to come back next year.
Ana Tiscorni, not sure what the title is, installation with chairs
Alejandra Von Hartz Gallery is another Miami gallery that shows a lot of Latin American artist, including this installation by Uruguayan artist Ana Tiscorni. It was unusual to see installations like this in the art fair--work usually was free-standing and pretty much portable.
Kathryn Kelley's sculpture outside Darke Gallery
