Tuesday, May 10, 2016

French Art History in a Nutshell

French Art History in a Nutshell

French art in the popular imagination is often characterized by the dreamy, dauby landscapes of the Impressionists and the bolder, more vibrant work of 20th-century greats living la vie bohème in Paris. But still more of the genres that we associate with the art historical canon were pioneered in France. Pinpointing the very beginning of “French” art may prove an impossible task, but the region has been rich in creative expression since cave paintings were rendered at Lascaux an estimated 17,300 years ago, making them some of the earliest artistic traces in human history.
Fine art was finessed by the artists of the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, an art school established in 1648 as an accessory of the French court. In 1699, the Academy mounted its first exhibition at the Louvre, where it continued to show for 100 years. From 1725 onwards, exhibitions were held in the Salon Carré, and became known simply as “salons.” The art presented in the salons dictated national and international tastes and formed the basis of what we have come to know today as traditional European art.
France’s story following the fall of Louis XVI in 1793 is one of revolution, and its art runs along that same axis. The Academy’s suspension, along with the dissolution of the court and its ultimate restructuring, destabilized the country’s artistic center. French artists responded to the atmosphere of social upheaval and growth with ceaseless innovation. Beginning with the undisputed master of Neoclassicism, Jacques-Louis David, through such ubiquitous art historical standouts as Gustave Courbet, Henri Matisse, Marcel Duchamp, and Louise Bourgeois, we present a capsule review of French art history from the 18th century to today.



Neoclassicism

Obsession with the idealized forms and mythology of ancient Greek and Roman cultures made a comeback in fine art from the late-18th to the mid-19th century. As the Enlightenment took hold and revolution stirred, an emphasis on order and balance reigned supreme in the refined compositions produced by the artists of the Academy. The most prominent artist of the time was David, who painted both classical scenes—like masterpieces The Oath of the Horatii (1784-85) and The Intervention of the Sabine Women (1796-99)—and tableaus depicting the first revolution. His unfinished painting The Oath of the Tennis Court (1790-94) captured the chaotic enthusiasm of revolution and the somber Death of Marat (1793) showed the gruesome bathtub murder of the revolutionary leader. Later, David would create stately portraits of Napoléon and his court; as “First Painter to the Emperor,” his paintings became essential to the regime’s propaganda program.
Also of the era, Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres trained under David and developed a unique style that often strayed from the precision of the Academy. Unlike his contemporaries, he depicted historical and physiological anomalies, such as in La Grande Odalisque (1814), his famous nude displaying an impossibly long back.



Romanticism

Developing around the same period as Neoclassicism and stemming from the literature of the time, Romanticism took a more emotional, intimate approach to its subject matter, favoring contemporary and personal scenes over the historical or mythological tableaux of Neoclassicism. Imagination and the interior life of the self were guiding forces in works that often focused on nature and fantastical views of faraway lands. Théodore Géricault painted some of Romanticism’s best-known works, including the dramatic, devastating The Raft of the Medusa (1818-19), which captures a tragic shipwreck from 1816, heavily imbued with political critique. The painting earned Géricault a fair amount of infamy, as the events it depicted were already central to a national scandal regarding the reinstated monarchy.
A contemporary of Géricault, Eugene Delacroix portrayed historical subjects like the Neoclassicists, but his paintings were laden with emotional content and fiercely vibrant colors. Delacroix looked to the East for inspiration (a common fascination of the time that stemmed from France’s colonial activities), often painting foreign locales replete with bustling marketplaces and exotic animals. He also created what is perhaps the most iconic French image of all time: La Liberté guidant le peuple (1830) shows a disheveled but triumphant Liberty emerging from the violent mayhem of revolution while raising the tri-color flag.



Realism

As the Revolution overturned France in the mid-19th century, a desire for egalitarianism began to inform artists’ work. Breaking away from the grandiose and emotionally charged subject matter of Neoclassicism and Romanticism, they focused their attention on everyday life and the common working men and women of France. Paintings of peasants toiling in the field, townspeople worshipping at church, or crowded city streets proliferated. In this climate, Gustave Courbet led the charge, painting forthright scenes of poverty and quotidian struggle, as well as unabashed views of sexuality, such as in his unflinching nude The Origin of the World (1866). Carrying elements of this genre into the next century, Auguste Rodin approached sculpture with an unusually realistic style. In bronze and marble, he forged bodies in motion and unidealized, conventional human forms along with centaurs and goddesses inspired by Classical mythology that connected back to his Neoclassical forebears.



Impressionism

The late 19th century in French art belongs to the Impressionists, who were deemed radical for their loose brushwork and experimental approach to light and color that veered firmly away from realistic representation. Industry was booming across Western Europe, with technological advancements infiltrating daily life and increasing its pace. Characterized by loose “impressions” of scenes, this art explored the vagaries of visual perception and captured the new conditions of urban life. Impressionism in France was led by Monet, Renoir, Manet, Degas, Pissarro, Morisot, and Caillebotte, who painted everything from smudgy seascapes, gardens, farmlands, and picnics, to boisterous dancehalls, household interiors, and elegant flâneurs along city streets—all views of the emerging modern world, where industrial development opened up more time for leisure, be it in the countryside or rapidly expanding urban areas. Their work was initially derided in haute art society, before gaining traction and spreading to other countries.



Post-Impressionism

Focused more on expressing subjective experience, Post-Impressionism emerged towards the close of the 19th century and carried into the 20th, with French painters Cézanne, Gauguin, and Seurat at the helm (along with famed Dutchman Van Gogh). Each stepped out into their own style. Seurat is known for having pioneered Pointillism (complex images made from tiny dots of color), furthering the impulse of Impressionism to translate the mechanics of human perception. Gauguin’s striking scenes of Tahitian life were characterized by their Symbolism, which discarded scientific concerns for art that stemmed from individual emotional experience and notions of spirituality. Self-taught Henri Rousseau also painted bold, brightly colored scenes of exotic locales, but unlike Gauguin, Rousseau’s jungle landscapes were all imagined. Paul Signac extrapolated from Pointillism, printing airy, pastel lithographs with slightly larger flecks of color and light.
Inspired by Cézanne’s strong palette and style (as well as that of other Post-Impressionists), Fauvism became one of the earliest forms of modern art. Propelled by Matisse and Derain, the movement’s name derives from an early critique of their work, in which the painters were labeled fauves, or “wild beasts”—the vivid, clashing colors and flattened out, pattern-based images shocked the public, but paved the way for the Modernism of the next century.



Modern

After Matisse and Derain helped fuel the modernist fires, French art expanded in a variety of directions. A cornerstone of the country’s avant-garde, Cubism—the fragmented, geometric twist on reality that pushed art into the conceptual—was driven by Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque, and help to launch the cavalcade of experimental genres that followed. Avant-garde innovator Marcel Duchamp (known for pioneering the readymade) also dabbled in Cubism, as well as the Swiss movement Dadaism and, later, Surrealism. Penned by André Breton in 1924 and greatly influenced by the iconoclasm of the Dadaists, the Surrealist Manifesto called into being the otherworldly, mind-bending works of artists such as Yves Tanguy.
Sculptor Louise Bourgeois began her practice with similarly absurdist forms and notions, but gradually shifted her focus towards capturing instead the movement and psychology contained in her subjects. Another contemporary, Jean Dubuffet, fostered Art Brut (also known as Outsider Art), categorized as works created outside society’s influence, whether due to a lack of art education or the artist’s position on the margins of society. Europe’s response to the Abstract Expressionism blossoming after WWII in America was Art Informel, championed in part by French painters Pierre Soulages and Georges Mathieu. In the ’60s, Nouveau Réalisme was born, with elements of American Pop and Neo-Dada combined across an array of mediums; Yves Klein, Niki de Saint-Phalle, and Martial Raysse all participated.



Contemporary

French contemporary art is marked by traces of the past; while mediums and styles have evolved, a keen interest in the psychology of the self and the nature of existence and the world remain at its core. Notable artists of the later half of the 20th century and today include Christian Boltanski, who often works with found objects (in the readymade tradition of Duchamp); Sophie Calle, whose conceptual works feel deeply intimate; and Pierre Huyghe, whose multimedia practice sometimes incorporates living beings of all sorts (recent installations include a sculpture buzzing with a live bee colony in the MoMA’s garden and a fish tank rife with slinky, eel-like fish perched on the Met’s rooftop).


—Kate Haveles



Monday, May 9, 2016

A Gallery Show That Questions Art Fairs

Eric Fischl’s “False Gods,” 2015, is one in a new series of oil paintings showing now at Skarstedt Gallery that poke fun at the art-fair circuit. Credit © Eric Fischl. Courtesy Skarstedt, New York
This week, the painter Eric Fischl hopes to holds a mirror up to the frenzy of New York’s art-fair season, capped by the opening tomorrow of Frieze New York, with “Rift Raft,” his new solo show at Skarstedt Gallery. Like this body of work, the fair circuit is relatively new to Fischl. “I started going to art fairs about four years ago for research. I had always tried to stay away from them,” Fischl says. “It’s like speed dating; there is nothing particularly pleasant or accurate about it. People are consuming art based on name recognition or some sort of sense of ‘get in quickly’ mentality. It was easy to rationalize going, because I felt like a spy.”
Hung on both stories of Skarstedt’s Upper East Side townhouse, Fischl’s paintings portray a fantastical world populated by disenchanted figures. Staring into the voids of their cellphone screens, Fischl’s well-heeled characters remain unfazed by the onslaught of look-at-me colors and purposefully provocative images. “You have artists who are asking you to connect with them, and then you have people who aren’t paying any attention to that plea, but are instead looking elsewhere. I think that really talks to a reality that is everywhere. We are in our bodies and out of our minds,” Fischl says. “I think over time artists have become even more extreme. It’s gotten stranger and stranger, and it still doesn’t seem to matter because people are more interested in something else.”
Amid the claustrophobic carnival of false walls and people, familiar images begin to appear in Fischl’s landscapes: a Tom Wesselmann nude, a Keith Haring dog, a bare-bottomed Sarah Lucas sculpture. “I was choosing work because of what it triggered in me,” Fischl says of his curatorial choices. “Some of it I admire, some of it I think is silly.” His own work isn’t exempt: “Girl With Doll,” a seminal piece from his ’80s heyday, makes an appearance too.
Photo
Fischl’s “Her,” 2016. Credit © Eric Fischl. Courtesy Skarstedt, New York
The depiction and commodification of the female body complicates several of Fischl’s compositions. A painting titled “She says, ‘Can I help You?’ He says, ‘It can’t be Helped’” depicts a man looking at a female form through the barrel of his iPhone — presumably snapping a picture to marinate on later. These binaries pop up again and again: the apprehensive female exhibitor standing alongside the brazenly topless cartoon, the old man transfixed by the dazed young woman. “I think that it’s something that was in the early work. Themes of my life, themes of my art, are about connection, about the longing for connection. It’s about needs and desires,” Fischl says. (This summer in the Hamptons, Fischl’s first foray into the female form will be on view at the Parrish Art Museum’s upcoming exhibition “Unfinished Business: Paintings From the 1970s and 1980s by Ross Bleckner, Eric Fischl, and David Salle.”) “Basically, these are stories about men and women, boys and girls, and trying to figure that whole thing out — art that is sort of about females and objects of desire, and the awkwardness around that.”

The Ins and Outs of Stolen Art, Explained

The Ins and Outs of Stolen Art, Explained

Modigliani’s Seated Man With a Cane (1918). Photo by Brian Smith.
Art dealer Kenneth Hendel recently found himself in a sticky situation: He was in possession of stolen art. The Florida-based dealer purchased a painting by Picasso after it failed to sell at auction. After the purchase, Wilma “Billie” Tisch, the rightful owner, discovered the painting’s whereabouts and demanded its return. Hendel claims that he is now the rightful owner. The dealer is confident that he will not be forced to return the work because he is working under the assumption that Florida law protects his purchase. He claims that “the piece belongs to the last person who purchased it if it has passed through at least two people since the theft.” This is simply not true.
While it is true that certain aspects of the law in Florida are more forgiving towards current possessors than would be the case under New York law, there are major misconceptions in Hendel’s analysis. There is no law, in any state, that allows someone to gain title over a work after it has passed through a requisite number of exchanges. In fact, a work can be sold by a hundred dealers and yet still belong to an original owner.


Stolen Art Statute in the U.S.


In the United States, every state operates under the “nemo dat” rule, shorthand for “nemo dat quod non habet,” meaning “no one gives what he doesn’t have.” Generally, a thief can never gain good title (ownership not subject to competing claims or liens) and may never pass title. Anyone in the chain of sale for a stolen work will not get good title, absent an exception.
There are narrow exceptions that allow a good faith purchaser (someone without constructive or actual knowledge of any title defects) to gain proper title. In limited circumstances, the court may deem it equitable to grant title to a good faith purchaser rather than the original owner. And while it is true that those limited exceptions vary from state to state, no state simply provides title to the most recent purchaser, as Hendel suggests.
Due to New York’s position at the center of the art market, both in the U.S. and the world at large, the Empire State is particularly protective of original owners in order to prevent the state from becoming a haven for stolen art. The state’s protective stance is reflected in its statute of limitations exception. As a general rule, a victim has a set time to file a lawsuit. For art theft, the clock typically begins to run when the work is stolen. However, the New York statute of limitations for art theft begins when the true owner demands the return of the object and the possessor refuses the demand. The reasoning is as follows: A good faith purchaser does not commit a wrongful act until he or she refuses to return the stolen work; only then can the statute of limitations begin to run. This “Demand and Refusal Rule” is tempered by a legal defense called “laches,” that prevents an original owner from sitting on their rights for an unreasonable length of time.
Other states are not quite as protective, following the “Discovery Rule.” That rule holds that the statute of limitations begins to run when a diligent owner knew, or should have known, the current location of an artwork. This standard is used by all states other than New York, as it encourages the original owner to act diligently in seeking his or her property. In the case that the original owner did nothing to recover his property, then a court may not agree to delay the statute of limitations, and the owner may be barred from bringing suit. This analysis is fact-specific and differs from case to case.
The inquiry in Tisch v. Hendel will rely on many facts. Should Tisch have discovered the location of the work earlier? How should she have searched for the painting? Should she have advertised the theft or would that have driven the work further underground? Did Hendel act in good faith? He is an art dealer with knowledge of the art market. Should he have research the work more thoroughly before purchase? As Picasso is the most stolen artist, should Hendel have been more skeptical of the piece and its low sale price? However, independent of the outcome of this case, the U.S. statute is clear and, in fact, much more stringent than in certain other jurisdictions worldwide.


What Loopholes Could Have Protected Hendel?


In the U.S., courts have recognized the importance of researching the title and history of artworks. If someone intends to purchase stolen art, there are other jurisdictions that are more favorable. Switzerland has long had a reputation as a safe haven for stolen property. Not only does the European nation fiercely guard the privacy of its banking clients, but its freeport in Geneva has become home to some of the greatest private art collections, with many deals taking place in the secrecy of its vaults.
The freeport has become notorious for housing looted and stolen art. One of the most famous dealers in looted Roman and Etruscan antiquities, Giacomo Medici, stored his wares in the freeport, eventually facing criminal changes, serving time in prison, and having his collection seized in the late 1990s. But the freeport continues to make headlines, as a raid earlier this year led to the discovery of a trove of illicit antiquities belong to one of Medici’s contacts, Robin Symes.
After much criticism over the nature of the Geneva warehouse, a change to the Swiss Customs Act was enacted on January 1, 2016. The regulations were amended to implement time limits for exports, increase transparency by declaring goods for export and provide the identification of buyers. The change to the Act was motivated as part of a larger program to reduce money laundering and smuggling. However, even with these changes, stolen art may be easier to transfer in Switzerland due to the fact that Swiss law presumes good faith on the part of a purchaser.
Individuals involved in the trade of stolen art have also used offshore accounts to complete transactions away from the prying eyes of the law and the art market. In April, a Panamanian law firm, Mossack Fonseca, suffered a security breach and had millions of internal files become public. The information in the so-called Panama Papers leak confirmed the suspicion that wealthy individuals use shell companies to hide art.
One prime example among the revelations is the case of Modigliani’s portrait Seated Man With a Cane (1918). The piece was once stolen by the Nazis. It vanished for decades but appeared for auction in 1996 at Christie’s and again in 2008 at Sotheby’s, with the well-known Helly Nahmad Gallery listed as consignor. At this time, the original owner’s heir, Philippe Maestracci, discovered the work’s whereabouts and claimed the painting as his family’s missing property. But when Maestracci demanded return of the work, the Nahmad Gallery claimed that it did not own the painting. The gallery claimed that the Modigliani portrait was purchased by International Art Center S.A. (“IAC”), a Panamanian company. As was revealed in the Panama Papers, IAC is a shell company for the Nahmads that was established by a member of the family. Ownership was later transferred to other family members through a share transfer.
For individuals with stolen art, the options are not limited to Florida and New York. Offshore accounts, freeports, and nations that presume good faith are all options for collectors. However, as a lawyer, I do not advocate hiding or purchasing stolen art or loot. As noted above in reference to the Panama Papers and the discovery of Medici and Symes collections, hidden art troves are usually discovered, and with disastrous consequences. It is not wise to deal in stolen or looted art. And it is important to purchase art with good title, as those purchases encourage a healthy and transparent art market, and those works also retain their value upon resale and are not subject to seizure.

Leila Amineddoleh


buzzz a the week

Maurizio Cattelan's Hitler Sculpture Leads Christie's $78 Million Sale

Market

Maurizio Cattelan's Hitler Sculpture Leads Christie's $78 Million Sale


ChristiesBTF-LOT_15A_Nauman
Bruce Nauman, Henry Moore Bound to Fail (Conceived in 1967 and executed in 1970)
Image: Courtesy of Christie's Images Ltd.

Christie's jumpstarted a jam-packed auction week in New York this evening with its "Bound to Fail" sale. Organized by Loic Gouzer, deputy chairman of postwar and contemporary art, the sale realized $78 million, edging toward its $81 million high estimate. Of 39 lots on offer, all but one was sold, making for a 97-percent sold-by-lot rate, and a 98-percent sold-by-value rate. But despite the strong overall results, activity and bidding in the sale room frequently seemed strained and sluggish throughout the sale.
Several new auction records were set, including for John Armleder, Maurizio Cattelan, Paola Pivi, Neil Jenney, Rebecca Horn, and Daniel Buren. The remaining two "records" were medium-specific, i.e. a video record for Bruce Nauman ($1.63 million) and for a sculpture by Richard Prince ($2.7 million).
The only real action of the evening happened during bidding on the final lot, Maurizio Cattelan's creepy, kneeling mannequin, Him (2001), which the viewer first sees from behind. A frontal view of the work reveals that it is a model of a mini-Adolf Hitler.
Once the work, which was estimated at a hefty $10 million to $12 million, reached $10 million, Gouzer, who has previously spearheaded other themed hybrid sales at Christie's, went head-to-head with private art dealer Philippe Segalot, who was seated in the sale room. Though bidding had been moving in $200,000 increments, momentum suddenly picked up. After Marianne Hoet, international director of postwar and contemporary art (who was on the phone with a client), jumped in, the bidding moved quickly to $13.2 million.
After the Brussels-based Hoet battled Gouzer's client for several more minutes, Hoet won the work for her client on a hammer price of $15.2 million. With premium, the final price is $17.2 million.
The price far exceeded Cattelan's previous record of $7.9 million, set in 2010, for an untitled installation that featured a sculpture of the artist emerging though the floor.
Martin Kippenberger, Feet First (1990)Image: Courtesy of Christie's Images Ltd.
Martin Kippenberger, Feet First (1990)
Image: Courtesy of Christie's Images Ltd.
The second highest lot of the night was a far quicker affair. When Jeff Koons's One Ball Total Equilibrium Tank (Spalding Dr. J Silver Series) (1985) came on the block (the unpublished estimate, which was revealed to us by a Christie's specialist at the auction, exceeded $12 million), bidding opened around $9 million. It ended quickly when a Christie's specialist bidding for a client on the phone won it for $13.5 million with seemingly only one competitor: a client bidding, again, via Gouzer. The final price, with premium, was $15.3 million.
A typically irreverent work by Martin Kippenberger, Feet First (1990), depicting a crucified frog, sold for a premium-inclusive $1.3 million, compared with an estimate of $700,000 to $900,000.
Based on paddle number, the same client purchased at least one other work tonight, Robert Gober's giant hyper-realistic sculpture of a stick of butter, Untitled (1993-94), which sold for $2.3 million.

Jeff Koons, One Ball Total Equilibrium Tank (Spalding Dr.J Silver Series (1985)Image: Courtesy of Christie's Images Ltd.
Jeff Koons, One Ball Total Equilibrium Tank (Spalding Dr.J Silver Series (1985)
Image: Courtesy of Christie's Images Ltd.
The centerpiece and inspiration for the sale was Bruce Nauman's contextually-loaded bronze work, Henry Moore Bound to Fail (1970), which was the third highest lot of the night, after Koons. Following bidding competition between Gouzer and a Christie's specialist standing next to him who was clearly taking instructions from a client in the front of the room, the piece sold for just under $7 million, against an estimate of $6 million to $8 million.
Maurizio Cattelan, Him (2001)Image: Courtesy of Christie's Images Ltd.
Maurizio Cattelan, Him (2001)
Image: Courtesy of Christie's Images Ltd.
A Richard Prince "Joke" painting, Drink Canada Dry (1991) sold to Christie's contemporary head Brett Gorvy, bidding for a phone client, for $3.6 million, compared with an estimate of $3 million to $4 million.
Glenn Ligon, Malcolm X (version 1) #1 (2000)Image: Courtesy of TKTKTK
Glenn Ligon, Malcolm X (version 1) #1 (2000)
Image: Courtesy of Christie's Images Ltd.
Glenn Ligon's Malcolm X (version 1) #1 (2000), sold for just over $1 million, landing in the middle of the $800,000 to $1.2 million estimate.
Though, as usual, much of the bidding came by clients over the telephone, we did spot West Coast film producer and collector Stavros Merjos bidding authoritatively on Kerry James Marshall's large, commanding canvas, Untitled (Pin-up) (2014), which he won for $680,000 at hammer, or a premium inclusive $821,000 (estimate: $650,000 – $850,000).
"It was a challenging sale," Gouzer told reporters at a post-auction press conference. "We all knew it was. The name said it, because we explored works by artists that were not central works, done deals or market darlings. And it did very well, testifying not only to the strength and breadth of the contemporary market but also the capacity of collectors to collect widely."
Jussi Pylkkanen, auctioneer of the evening and global president of Christie's, was enthusiastic about the impact and potential of these "curated" sales. Following the sale, he told artnet News that they are "interesting and inspiring" for collectors and specialists alike because of the range of works offered.
For seasoned collectors, as far as price points go, he said, "You don't just collect things in the millions."
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'Vagina Kayak' Artist Found Guilty of Obscenity in Tokyo Court


People

'Vagina Kayak' Artist Found Guilty of Obscenity in Tokyo Court

                                                
Megumi Igarashi and her lawyers pose with a sign reading “a part is not guilty" in front of the Tokyo District Court on May 9, 2016. Photo: KAZUHIRO NOGI/AFP/Getty Images.
Megumi Igarashi and her lawyers pose with a sign reading “a part is not guilty" in front of the Tokyo District Court on May 9, 2016. Photo: KAZUHIRO NOGI/AFP/Getty Images.
Concluding a protracted case that began two years ago, a Tokyo district court today found "Vagina Kayak" artist Megumi Igarashi guilty of distributing obscene images.
The Guardian reports that the 44-year-old was slapped with a 400,000 yen fine (approximately $3,500), half the amount demanded by prosecutors. Japan's obscenity laws carry a maximum penalty of two years in prison, but back in February, case prosecutors decided to only demand a fine of 800,000 yen.
Igarashi was cleared of another charge, related to the displaying of obscene material in an adult shop in Tokyo (namely, plaster versions of the vagina kayak).
The ruling ends a case that goes back to July 2014, when Igarashi was arrested for trying to raise funds online to pay for the construction of a vagina-shaped kayak, which was realized using a 3D printer.
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Megumi Igarashi's documentation of the process of turning a 3D model of her vagina into a working kayak. Photo: Courtesy the artist.
“I don't believe my vagina is anything obscene," Igarashi stated in a press conference upon being released. “I was determined I would never yield to police power," she declared.
In December 2014, however, Igarashi—whose artistic moniker Rokude Nashiko means something similar to “reprobate child"—was arrested a second time on suspicion of having sent a link “that shows her plan to create a boat using three-dimensional obscene data" to numerous people.
Igarishi's case has highlighted Japan's rather contradictory stance on pornography. Although the country has a buoyant pornography industry, its laws forbid the depiction of actual genitalia, which usually appear censored or pixelated.
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Megumi Igarashi. Photo: Courtesy of the artist.
For the artist, her case also revealed the level of misogyny present in the country. "Works that focus on female gender themes are looked down upon [in Japan]," she told artnet News last year.
Throughout her ordeal with the Japanese authorities, Igarishi has emerged as a strong advocate for women's rights and freedom of expression, supported and respected by many across the world.
The Guardian reports that an en English translation of her book What is Obscenity? will go on sale tomorrow.
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Friday, May 6, 2016

Frieze Hired a Pickpocket to Roam Their Art Fair—Here’s Why

Frieze Hired a Pickpocket to Roam Their Art Fair—Here’s Why


The Frieze Art Fair on Randall's Island.
The Frieze Art Fair on Randall’s Island. Photo: Courtesy of Ryan Steadman
I was about to dig into a $9 vegetarian slider on the Frieze art fair’s chilly patio when a mysterious text popped up on my phone.
“Meet us up front at 2:45” it said, from an unknown number. It took me a minute to remember that I was meeting the Los Angeles artist David Horvitz to discuss his new project for the fair. That was just enough time to inhale my mini burger, question my life’s purpose, and check out a few jazzy paintings before the long trek back to the north side of the tent.
Once there, I reconvened with the helpful PR woman I’d met earlier, who then escorted me to where Mr. Horvitz was finishing up another interview. We exchanged pleasantries before all deciding it was time to go back into the tent and look for “him or her.”
The mystery person we’re looking for is actually an art piece—a professional pickpocket (or more accurately, a “slight-of-hand expert”) that the artist hired to secretly accost fair visitors. But the catch? Instead of taking valuables from Frieze guests, Mr. or Ms. X will be gifting them small sculptures designed by Mr. Horvitz in an edition of 1000.
A silly and kind gesture, though one shrouded in mystery.
The restaurant: A good place for "marks"?
The restaurant: A good place for “marks”? Photo: Courtesy of Ryan Steadman
“I saw him over here about ten minutes ago,” said Mr. Horvitz, as our eyes darted around the massively crowded fair. After some brief discussion as to strategy (should you move to find a moving target or stand still?), we set off to look for the mystery gifter that Mr. Horvitz had scarcely met himself.
“I interviewed three people and tested them all,” he said about the sculpture-dropper. “This one was the best.”
Mr. Horvitz is said to specialize in projects that “subvert standardized systems and patterns of circulation,” and unlike many conceptual artworks that are often paired with catchphrases that don’t match their outward presentations, I actually felt as if this piece had altered my perception of the fair format almost instantly.
I was no longer considering artworks. I suddenly found myself regarding the various people at the fair: “Was that guy stalking that older lady? The woman in the baseball hat looks very shifty. That older gentleman sidles up very well,” I thought.
But I also engaged with the tent space in a completely different way. We tried to strategize about good areas for sneaking into people’s bags or pockets. Maybe we should try the restaurants. They had a lot of bustle, but also a lot of potential witnesses. The rest areas? People there seem pretty dazed, perfect Marks. The aisles? Tight spaces that seemed perfect for the bump-and-drop.
After about 15 minutes, we ran into another PR woman who was working with Mr. Horvitz. She dipped into her purse to give me her card and Lo! There was a sculpture inside. “I got one!” She screamed into her massive, wide open bag. “I actually do remember someone bumping me, but turned and saw a friend and thought it was her.”
This doubled my already thick layers of suspicion. “Was I being played by Frieze?” I thought.
Juliet finds a sculpture in her purse.
Juliet finds a sculpture in her purse. Photo: Courtesy of Ryan Steadman
“It seems like this is staged,” said Mr. Horvitz with a laugh, “but I swear that was a random drop.” It turns out, this person is likely dropping around 250 sculptures a day at the fair, so his story could check out. At this point, we’d been walking around for a half hour looking for this person. Then, suddenly, a text.
“I saw the pickpocket!!!” it said. It was from my art advisor friend who was near the north entrance—where we had started. “He was trying to leave one w/ a lady but kept chickening out lol” said a second text.
OK, so we knew two things now: It was a man and he was careful.
We headed back in that general direction, and then after a full hour of hunting, Mr. Horvitz spotted him. “Okay” he said quietly as he back pedaled to the nearest wall. “He’s over there.”
I looked at a gentleman whose head appeared to be on a swivel, with, hands down, the most active eyes at the fair (a place meant for constant viewing, mind you). I followed him on my own for a bit, trying to be inconspicuous, while studying him. He was always clutching something while observing the crowd. He had the feel of a pro athlete. I noticed his wide view and his precision focus (he studied one woman’s purse with the intensity of a hitter watching a moving curveball before almost making a drop).
He pulled out though, reconsidering the drop, and then slid around a wall toward the bathrooms. I bumped into a dealer I knew and said hello—and just like that—he was gone.
I gave Mr. Horvitz my recap and he seemed pleased. We agreed not to reveal much about said gentleman or the palm-sized sculptures (for the sake of the piece and the brave pickpocket), but if you go to Frieze this week, bring your big pockets, totes and beach bags. And don’t worry if you get jostled a bit in the aisles.