February 1997 posedown by Leslie Harpold |
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"Mass murder can be art, it all depends where you put the blood."
I overheard that phrase at a gallery opening about three years ago, and
I've never forgotten it. I don't know if the person who said it was the
first person to say it, or if they read it somewhere, or were quoting
something they once overheard. Guess what? I don't care. I have gotten
more mileage out of that phrase than almost any other, and I'm not afraid
to say it often. If you go to enough gallery openings in the same place,
you can start to pick up your fellow viewers shtick, so you have to watch
out for that, but otherwise, selective borrowing and stealing can be very
effective. Jack's favorite phrase is: "It conveys a great sense of loss to
me," and Todd likes to say "I think I've seen this before, maybe something
German." My personal favorite stems from the fact that I seem to be seeing
too much collage and too much word based conceptual sculpture lately, and
frankly, it ain't my cup of tea.
Now, art gallery openings are in no way to be confused with art. In future
posedowns, we'll explore faking your way through conversations about
photography, pop art, and all manner of other categories, but right now,
we're going to focus on the most precarious of all social situations. The
Gallery Opening.
First of all, even at the most posh gallery, the wine is going to be bad
box Chardonnay, Merlot if the artist sells at a multi-thousand dollar
price point. Galleries seem to attract people with a taste for cheap wine.
It is totally uncool to mention that the wine is from a box. Sure, you
know it's tacky, but sometimes if the art is really bad, that box wine can
be your best friend.
If you want to talk to the artist, pick the piece that looks most like a
train wreck. Separate yourself from whoever you came with, and stare at
it, seemingly mesmerized. Eventually the Gallery Owner will approach you
with a comment like "Moving, isn't it?" Smile enigmatically and nod, but do
not turn your eyes away from the work. Soon, you will hear the
distinctive snap of fingers, the owner summoning the artist like Bette
Davis summoning a waiter in some old movie. You will be introduced, and
it's important to have a mysterious question for the artist ready. "Your
figures seem to have a certain esoteric body language that speaks of loss,
were you thinking of cultural constraints on materialist obsessions when
you created this?"
Chances are they will make up an answer to support your theory on the spot,
having been carefully coached. This will be the most entertaining part of
your evening. Nothing entertains like a good lie. Look the artist in the
eye knowingly when he/she finishes the didactic. Watch the gallery owner
get the special glint that says they think they just made a sale. Wander
back to consult with your companion, then, you should probably leave,
because the gallery shrew will jock you endlessly for the balance of the
evening.
I know I say this about everything, but wear good shoes. This will
give you the credibility to pull off all these slick dance moves. People
do notice, because remember, the function of the opening is to find out
who's got the money, and then take that money away from them. Shoes are
key. Don't wear jewelry, because no matter how much you think your
Hello Kitty pendant is cute and makes you look thinner, these people
know their stuff, and will instantly dismiss you into the "not a player"
category, and you won't be invited back.
The advantages to getting really good at these events is they can open a
whole world of better events. Trust me, the parties after the
opening and the brunch functions "hosted by the artist," tend to be a lot
more fun than these pretentious gatherings. And the art gallery equivalent
of the "Secret Show" will get you cheap champagne for free, and lots of it,
so if nothing else, it's just another way to get drunk free, and load up on
fancy gourmet snacks you'd never buy yourself.
A final cautionary note. The most important person in the room will appear
to be some European guy with slick hair and an untraceable accent. This is
a guy from Staten Island looking for a rich patroness or patron and is
definitely a sleazeball. Unless you want a live-in boy toy with expensive
tastes, avoid him like the plague.
back to the junk drawer
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