London’s premier art and cultural get-together returns with an almighty affair of taste, texture, and aesthetic power. Its highbrow display sensorily wears you down and shows that the most impressive works may not always be the loudest in the room.
Frieze, take it all in. A veritable feast for the eyes, occasional nourishment for the soul and, at times, a sensory overload, with over 160 galleries packed into a corner of London’s Regent’s Park.
If the object of art is to give life shape – as Shakespeare is (incorrectly) attributed with saying – then the fair’s first challenge is always to strike a balance between cramming and curating. To provide a shape, rather, that will best present the art.
Frieze has divvied-up its heady multitude of paintings, sculptures, and live performances into segmented spaces: Unworlding, a new section curated by Cédric Fauq dedicated to the idea of deconstruction; Editions for the collectors and buyers; and Focus, for galleries no more than 12 years old.
Rose Wylie’s Pineapple, her first bronze sculpture, is the immediate object to strike
Head in first from St. Andrew’s Gate in the east, though, and you’re met with the monuments of Frieze Sculpture.
Rose Wylie’s Pineapple, her first bronze sculpture, is the immediate object to strike, before Gisela Colón’s Quantum Shift (Parabolic Monolith Sirius Titanium) – yes, that really is its name – breaks through like a bullet. It’s a statement of intent of her intersectional work between science and art, described as both ‘of this earth and not of this earth’. A fitting mantra for what follows.
The work on show from L’Etrangère – Tatian Wolska’s red, hanging forms of recycled bottles – may not have been the most alluring, but the institution’s name certainly nods to the Albert Camus-inspired existentialism of the main Frieze show.
The opening is straightforward enough: Jennifer Gaudi’s colourful expression in a solo presentation from Gagosian adorns one booth, each painting with their own mandala-like configurations. Next door sits Sarah Lucas’ Bunnies, in a display from Sadie Coles HQ.
Lucas has been making these Bunnies – or, more specifically, stuffed tights coiling around each other to form the nude complexion of Playboy bunnies – since the 90s. They may be slumped, but artistically they haven’t lost their vivacity.
Ndaye Kouagou’s Good People TV had the gumption to mock our capacity for virtue signalling
Indeed, like an ageing beauty this was a show that was all about grappling with new surroundings; an artistic, social elite that had to turn inward during the pandemic; exclusive glitterati at a fair claiming to be ‘elevating new voices’; a world of decadence vowing to shine a spotlight on sustainability. How would it reckon with it all?
In truth, this was more art for art’s sake than for the sake of political point-scoring or lecturing – unlike the recent Turner Prize. A celebration of global creativity with some works, notably Ndaye Kouagou’s ironically-named Good People TV, at least having the gumption and playfulness to mock our capacity for virtue signalling.
ArrayNdaye Kouagou. When to feel comfortable and when to feel uncomfortable. Film still. Courtesy of the artist and Nir Altman.
Others, naturally, turned more directly to social issues. Stephen Friedman Gallery’s showcase of new works by Deborah Roberts did well to present and challenge societal norms of race and beauty in authentic and authoritative way.
Likewise, Garrett Bradley’s nine-minute short – one of the best works of them all – took on social issues without criticising the viewer for any social or moral failings, as a voiceover asks simply ‘Are you colour struck?’. Impressively, the Lisson Gallery had a private viewing room constructed, providing a moment of solace and tranquillity away from the more exuberant works.
Bradley’s nine-minute short felt as though you were revisiting her fragmented memories
This film – whether you know Bradley or not – felt as though you were revisiting her fragmented memories alongside her, with a piercing soundscape used to maintain your focus. Nothing feels as personal or as intimate than that.
Equally soothing, and wrestling with another global issue, was Edel Assanti Gallery’s running video of a tropical jungle on fire: Below the Deep South by Noémie Goudal. The video of course demonstrates a world in flames, wrought by the devastation of climate change – a major theme, inevitably, of this year’s fair and abundantly evident through the likes of Berlin’s Société, Munich’s Nir Altman and many more.
Attempting to tackle the climate emergency within the world of art is the Gallery Climate Coalition, created in October last year, which has the goal of its 550+ members reducing their carbon emissions by 50% by 2030. As with all such promises, the proof will be in the results rather than any kick-the-can-down-the-road type policies.
Returning to the art, not everything delivered. A circular collection of shoes on one corner appeared lazy and unremarkable (was this denoting our carbon footprint? A message about placing yourself in another’s shoes?). Similarly, one draped mannequin, from a supposedly highly-rated artist, amounts to little more than a pile of unemotive confetti on the floor. Though with such a large artistic offering, the chances are not everything will deliver.
Attempting to tackle the climate emergency within the world of art is the 550+ galleries in the Gallery Climate Coalition
Business-wise, however, many galleries have reported some relatively encouraging results, giving just a glimmer that the art world will recover after a torrid eighteen months.
Within a few hours, Hauser & Wirth had sold Louise Bourgeois’ 2004 fabric sculpture of a couple embracing for $2.4m and a Günther Förg painting for €1.5 million. Wylie’s aforementioned pineapple sculpture sold for a reported $250,000 – sums that remind you that beneath the décor and furnishings, this world is ultimately a business, and Frieze is its primetime showcase. Still, much of the art was decent.