Tag Archives: oligarchs

SAVE £40 ON FRIEZE TICKETS

20 Apr

21.-ops.-Scrooge-McDuck.-Azizonomics

… every single year, guaranteed… BY NOT GOING.

I’m severely late on this one, because Frieze Art Fair [sic] was last October and at the time I was far too fucking busy touring Japan and having an amazing, inspiring time in the midst of the most staggering beauty to even think about paying £40 to be milked by a loathsome trade fair for oligarchs, blood money gold diggers and other moneyed Eurotrash, even if I’d been in London at the time. However, this is an excellent– and dare I say even Career Suicidesque– response rant by Morgan Quaintance to Frieze’s jaw-droppingly unironic and egregious discussion panel entitled Off Centre: Can Artists Still Afford to Live in London? During a ticketed fair where a person earning minimum wage would have to work for nearly six hours to afford the admission price, and putting your coat or bag in the cloakroom costs a fiver. Not to mention that most people who work in the arts already know the answer, which can be found in the thousands of artists and other creative people, and key workers like teachers, who have been forced to leave the capital to stand any chance of making ends meet.

This talk is also evidence of what I mentioned in a recent post with regard to artist livelihoods being a taboo and unfashionable subject when I started talking about it seven or eight years ago. People who ran art galleries or arts organisations were often absolutely baffled and speechless at any suggestion they talk about how money flows through the system– and particularly how it doesn’t often flow to artists in any significant quantities– but now even the likes of Frieze see benefits (undoubtedly self-serving ones, as Quaintance also points out) in talking about the subject, or at least being seen to talk about it.

It’s well documented that I despise Frieze magazine and their trade (not art) fair, both of which are festering sores on the face of genuine art and an affront to everything I hold dear, and I know I’m very well accompanied in that, but it’s nice to have a co-pilot who says things like this:

[The talk] tipped the uneasy balance between finance and art to a position that felt entirely more exploitative, offensive and grotesque. Put simply, the instrumentalisation and commodification of hardship took things a step too far.”

And:

“Is there something base about using the human fallout that comes from the pursuit of capital to excuse and make the pursuit of capital more attractive?”

McDuck

He also torpedoes the infuriating, traitorous and intellectually lazy response of many apologists for the toxic sea of Panama-flavoured money in which some directors of public galleries, commercial gallerists and artists float their rotten boats, the “all money is dirty” brigade who generally only say so because they never earned or received a penny in their lives that didn’t come from dodgy sources and at the cost of somebody else’s suffering, oppression or exploitation.

“… the relentless spread of alienating neoliberal practices throughout the capital are what makes this all difficult to stomach. But the fact that it is easy for others to swallow makes me think that there are, at present, two consciousnesses operating in the British art world: one that is happy to ignore the art world’s possible complicity with the wretched socio-cultural, economic and political state of things and another that finds it distressing, disturbing and debilitating to do so.”

Distressed, disturbed and debilitated here, in case you were still in any doubt.

Frieze Art Fair: the monetization of your misery?

ArtWorldDickheadsE_Hughes

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TOP TEN THINGS TO SEE AT THE VENICE BIENNALE 2015

5 May

Aper

PPBorborygmusArtCriticBY GUEST CRITIC PP BORBORYGMUS, CONTEMPORARY ART CORRESPONDENT AT LARGE FOR TEMPORARY CON ART MAGAZINE

1. THE FRIEZE PARTY

It’s fabulous because hardly anybody can get in, so no riff-raff will be there to see you trash the place and talk shit about the person you’ll then turn right around to, air kiss and and be all smiles with. You’ll see lots of peons outside, though, trying to blag their way in as you sail through like an oligarch’s yacht (see No. 2) deliberately ramming a Mediterranean immigrant raft. That’ll show them who’s important and who isn’t. Matthew Slotover is a darling and almost never strangles people then stuffs them into weighted suitcases to dump into the lagoon from the back of a water taxi in the middle of the night a bit like that chap in American Psycho. Don’t forget to appreciate his tasteful business card and you should be fine.

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Matthew Slotover rarely does this.

2. PARTY ON AN OLIGARCH’S YACHT

It’s fabulous because everybody is incredibly rich. There are always a few yachts docked beside or crashed into the front walls of Venice’s historic palazzi. Oili Massovoye-Ubiystvic’s über-yacht is the crème de la crème; it’s forty storeys high, matte black, armed with mortars supplied by Poju Zabludowicz, and it has its own designer brig section for permanently imprisoning Middle Eastern refugee women who’ve been sold into sexual slavery. If you ever wondered about Venice parties having so many bevies of dazed, dopey, dusky twenty-two year olds in couture dresses, wonder no more. And the answers are yes, they come from O M-U’s sex brig; don’t worry, they probably won’t remember much because of the rohypnol; maybe, but don’t touch what you can’t afford because breakages must be paid for; no, the dresses don’t belong to them.

3. PARTY BY ONE OF THE COUNTRIES WHO HAD A BIG ENOUGH EMPIRE TO BE IN THE GIARDINI

Get there reasonably early because sometimes they’re a bit stingy with the free nibbles and drinkies. Something to do with tax payers’ money? You might be surprised how many tax payers you actually know, so just get as much down you as possible and politely pass over the tricky subject of who pays for all this stuff. Grab a whole bottle from a passing tray if you can. On the plus side you can probably tick off a lot of these little ones in very quick succession, so they work as a delightful if sometimes unpleasantly democratic pre-party for the main attraction which is obviously the Frieze party, oligarch yacht hopping, Lady Gaga’s party (see No. 4), or preferably all three.

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SUBMIT YOUR DAUBINGS TO NEWS CORP, PLEBS

23 May

ALSO: THE QUEEN’S NIECE, HER SURVEYOR OF PICTURES, AND THE 64,277TH MOST IMPORTANT ARTIST

The deadline for the Sunday Times Watercolour Competition is pressing upon us, like a paunchy red-trousered sextagenarian taking liberties with our bottoms when he squeezes far too intimately past in the train’s buffet car on the way back to his seat in First Class. Another in Parker Harris‘ comprehensive range of reception hoppers for the excess money of aspiring artists, it will cost you £15 per image to get up to four of your works in front of the “panel of leading figures in the art world, including Sarah Armstrong Jones, artist; Ben Ravenscroft, artist: Desmond Shawe-Taylor CVO, Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures; and Louis Wise, Critic and Writer, The Sunday Times.”

Sarah Armstrong Jones and The Times are being terribly modest because Sarah is actually The Lady Sarah Frances Elizabeth Chatto, daughter of the 1st Earl of Snowdon and Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowdon and second daughter of George VI. Sarah is 20th in line to the throne. She’s the niece of Queen Elizabeth II, but over her lifetime Lady Chatto has slipped from seventh in line to her current sad ranking, the poor old thing. She either didn’t suck up to Her Maj enough, or she failed to avail herself of opportunities for royal sibling murder. Any road up, who better to dangle the hope of cash prizes to ordinary, ambitious people than a woman who never worked a day in her life because she was born at the apex of a feudal, plutocratic and super wealthy elite who live mainly at the British tax payers’ expense? In honour of the competition I executed a modest watercolour of her. I hope she likes it. I gave her a crown, because you know she’s been to a fancy dress shop or a Burger King to pick up a toy one so she can “jokingly” just see what it looks like. I admit the mouth area went a big wrong. She doesn’t have a ginger beard in real life and she is not a gut-munching cannibal either.

AFAIK.

It’s artistic license, OK?

LadySarah

£15 down the crapper. SFX: Old fashioned “ker-ching!” till ring.

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