Frieze! In the Name of Love

Published: Tuesday, 22 October 2024

Instead of a review, we’re going to take a broader look at two things: a sociocultural anthropological study of the complex ecosystem (i.e. people-watching), plus a glance at the logistics, economics and (say it quietly) the politics of these things. This won't be my most art analytical/technical newsletter ever, it's more of an exploration of what I observed. Next week, we will pick a couple of exciting artists from Frieze and examine their works.

The People-Watching, Oh The People-Watching

Full disclosure: I mainly went to Frieze for the art, but spectating the crowd was fun too. This is a great place to witness all levels of market participants: institutions like museums, high profile private collectors, everyday art enthusiasts, art advisors, dealers, artists, and other gallery participants are all represented. People from all walks of life gather to admire, purchase, and take videos of the art (and themselves… for TikTok, and the ‘Gram). It's as much of a social phenomenon as it is an art world experience.

For some, it's truly a shopping spree. Toddlers stand on sculpture podiums trying to touch everything they see, spouses drag their partners away from sales associates or artworks they're staring at a little too long. Some are dripping in fashion, and some are dripping in jewels. Some have saved to afford a ticket, and some arrive with their shopping bags from Burberry, Hermes, or Selfridges.

The art at each fair ‘matches the vibe’ of the clientele (kind of like how owners resemble their dogs… that would be rude, but I find it adorable. Dogs are amazing). Who owns a work by a particular artist is as much a representation of an artist as the work itself, and in-the-loop people are quick to note such details. It’s one thing to be seen, and it's another entirely to be recognized. (Note to self: need to do a newsletter on the Sources of Value in Art… spoiler: yes, the aesthetics are crucial… but there’s also a social aspect. Some folks literally buy art (and attend art fairs) as a social activity; to See and Be Seen).

Frieze Masters has the more expensive tickets. As a result, it's not as crowded and the clientele is chic while eating at the Nobu pop up for their lunch break. Frieze London has cheaper entrance, therefore draws a larger and more diverse crowd and has the same vibe as a shopping centre on Black Friday. Less mindful, less demure, more under-stated than Frieze Masters… but this is still an art show, so it still has the Ruinart Champagne trolley carts!!

At Frieze Masters, the same person interested in buying a Giorgio Morandi Natura Morta or Edvard Munch’s Horse In A Landscape is probably the same person who buys an Hermes Picnic Kelly 35. While over at Frieze London, the same person interested in purchasing their own colony of inflatable penguins would also be interested in…Club Penguin?

Well-intentioned fun-poking aside, both Frieze Masters and Frieze London offered a great experience, ambience and art, and the audiences at both locations were educated, thoughtful and engaged. There was real joy in the air. Which is good news, given the huge behind-the-scenes logistics and risky gambling involved.

The Logistics, The Economics and (say it quietly) The Politics

Art fairs are weird. There are nearly 300 worldwide, but as we discussed in It's the "Quiet" Season (or is it?), there’s about a dozen “major” fairs that count. Major art fairs claim to be About The Art, but almost all of the discussion before, during and after is About The Money (with a small aside of Who Is Up and Who Is Down). For good reason: fairs account for $17 billion annually, or about 45% of all dealer and gallery sales. This is approximately 26% of the total transactional value of the global art market as of 2023.

What I find interesting is that, yes, it's about the money, but the money is not easy… and not a sure thing. In preparing for this piece, I was surprised by the apprehension and uncertainty of the participants and commentators. Frieze London was established in 2003; you would have thought 21 years was long enough to instil some confidence in the venture, but much of the talk had a ‘make-or-break’ tone.

The economics and risks of all involved go some way to explaining that anxiety. Galleries, in particular, take considerable risk in attending art fairs. Many of their costs – like booth fees, logistics, insurance - are significant (and due up-front), incurred in the hope that attendance and sales will be high enough to make a return. The larger, more established, galleries have the resources to spread the risk, but most small and medium galleries must take a significant gamble about the (potential) buying behaviour of people who turn up at these fairs.

At the same time, there is politics: not just negotiating for the best positions, but galleries need to decide which of their artists to prioritise. A medium-sized gallery might have commitments to a dozen artists, but space, attention and resource constraints mean they can highlight only 1 or 2 at a particular fair… a decision bound to cause controversy. Galleries need to ensure they make a profit while supporting the work of their emerging or established artists. It’s a high-risk endeavour, economically, politically and reputationally.

Meanwhile, the buyer is also in a high-risk situation. Buying in a private sale or gallery showroom provides plenty of time for research and discussion. Buying in a public auction is much higher drama and urgency, but it follows weeks, months or years of contemplation and planning. In contrast, art fairs are noisy, busy and hectic, and buyers must make quick decisions about purchasing a work to not lose out to competition (you can only have a painting on hold for so long after all, there’s (literally) a long waiting list behind you).

Truth be told, some of that waiting line is artificial scarcity: by the time the general public gets access to the fair, many works are already on hold or have been sold, especially at blue-chip galleries. Galleries give preview catalogues to their list of clients and advisors several weeks in advance of the fair to build demand. So by the time preview day arrives, the works are already snatched up. Sometimes, sales are pre-arranged but announced publicly during the fair: reporting higher sales at the fair is good marketing for the fair and the gallery and the artist. (There's a very interesting interview discussing this dynamic between ArtNews and Austrian art dealer Thaddeus Ropac you can read here).

This is where the new layout of prioritising young/new galleries at the entrance of Frieze London was an interesting experiment. The blue-chip galleries and artists are still the primary drawcard, but the layout forced visitors to take the scenic route to the back of the tent. Besides helping us all reach our goal of ten thousand steps/day, it also drives increased foot traffic to the smaller galleries.

The ones who really deserve the recognition are the gallery representatives working the Fair- they’re the real heroes. Observing the sales process, it occurs to me they are doing an exceptionally difficult job. From acquiring new buyers, promoting works or sales through constant conversation, writing and researching for the catalogue to be handed out, looking happy, and standing on your feet with minimal breaks for 12+ hours a day for 5 days. Galleries literally spend up to a year preparing for a fair like this.

Apart from the exhaustion, they also have to constantly make assessments of whether a newly arrived guest is a likely buyer, a time-waster, or a child about to knock over a sculpture. A real False Positive v. False Negative decision problem... Woe betide any young gallery assistant who neglects to recognise an important customer, but you also cannot invest precious hours with an eager and chatty local who never intends to buy anything.

I left Frieze tired, but full of joy and appreciation. The art world can be a harsh and judgmental place – it’s easy to be critical and cynical, and so many people conflate elitism with snootiness. There is money everywhere and the headlines contain staggering sums, but a surprisingly large number of the participants are more stretched than first appears. Frieze left me with a renewed feeling of gratitude for the hard work of the Fair organisers, the gallery workers, the artists, the buyers… everyone in the ecosystem.

And that’s just the people… next week, we will look at some of the new pieces and artists that I found!

​

I enjoy researching and writing this newsletter, and I hope you enjoy reading it. If you have any feedback, questions, or suggestions for future newsletters, please reply to this email!