Kelly green stickers papered the ground, emblazoned with philosophical quandaries in Futura all caps: “ARE THERE ANIMALS IN HEAVEN?” “WHO BUYS THE CON?” “IS THERE LIFE WITHOUT PAIN?” But this wasn’t just aimless litter underfoot; it was artist Barbara Kruger’s installation “Untitled (Questions 3),” one of the many exhibits on display at the art fair, Frieze LA.
Paul McCarthy’s “Daddies Tomato Ketchup Inflatable”
Frieze, which bills itself as a “media and events company,” is an arts and culture magazine publisher that has grown into an international powerhouse, throwing well-attended bashes in New York and London. Over the weekend of February 16 and 17, artists, curators and celebrities descended upon Paramount Studios to see and be seen at Frieze’s inaugural LA festival.
The show was a veritable murderer’s row of the who’s who of the art world with installations from Wayne Thibaut, El Anatsui, Mike Kelley, and Paul McCarthy. On opening night, the star-studded list of attendees included Brad Pitt, Gwyneth Paltrow, Leonardo diCaprio, and Kanye West.
There is a general consensus in the moneyed art world that LA is where art fairs go to die. In the past, quite a few (Paris Photo LA and Foire Internationale d’Art Contemporain come to mind) have tried and failed to get off the ground, citing LA’s expansive urban sprawl and apathetic local market as stymying factors.
With the arrival of Frieze Festival, it seems like the tide is finally turning.
Beneath a spacious white tent designed by architect Kulapat Yantrasast, “70 of the most significant and forward-thinking contemporary galleries from across the city and around the world” jockeyed to move as much stock as possible. And it worked — Hauser & Wirth sold Kelley’s “Unisex Love Nest” for $1.8 million; a Yayoi Kusama painting from Levy Gorvy fetched $1.6 million; Lehmann Maupin, 303 Gallery, and Mendes Wood DM all got cleaned out.
For those who didn’t have a cool million to drop on art, the Paramount backlot, a whole world unto itself, was open to explore. Visitors wandered through a life-size replica of New York, featuring its signature brownstones.
Trulee Hall’s “Infestation”
The artists exhibiting in the backlot took full advantage of the Brooklyn-esque architecture. Hannah Greely’s “High and Dry” suspended gently-swaying papier-mâché pants and dresses from clotheslines strung overhead between apartments. In Trulee Hall’s “Infestation,” a green tentacle emerged from the concrete depths of a subway station, winding its way up fire escapes and slithering into windows. An accompanying stop-motion video documented the inhabitants’ chagrin, especially that of a woman in the midst of her toilette.
Though the buildings’ exterior looked a perfect facsimile, their stark interiors revealed the infrastructure supporting the facade. Most of the exhibits were housed in rooms that consisted of skeletal white walls and sawdust-powdered floors, making each pop-up a small oasis within what felt like a ghost town.
“I touched a cactus flower,” installation by Sarah Cain
A few artists and vendors tried to zhuzh up their spaces. Sarah Cain’s installation, “I touched a cactus flower,” transformed the interior of a brownstone into a Katy Perry music video, replete with a popsicle-colored couch and a stained glass window. Vendors like Artbook and Pretend Plants and Flowers curated cozy-cute atmospheres with glossy monographs and mini-succulents in glazed ceramic pots.
Stained glass in Sarah Cain’s “I touched a cactus flower”
In addition to the exhibits, there were also panels and film screenings scheduled throughout the weekend. On Saturday, when I visited, there was a screening of Cécile B. Evans’ video essays, a conversation between artist Stanya Kahn and Frieze editor Andrew Durbin, and a game of “Name That Tune!” with cinematographer Arthur Jafa. Trendy eateries Baroo, Sqirl, and Cinqué were on hand to serve avocado toast, margherita pizza, and wildly overpriced champagne.
In the promotional materials Frieze released in the weeks leading up the festival, the “LA” aspect of Frieze LA was repeatedly underscored. Twenty-four of the invited galleries were local and many featured LA-centered programming. In a press release, Bettina Korek, the executive director of Frieze LA, said that the fair brought together “Los Angeles’s defining art spaces to celebrate our city’s position as a global arts center and destination.”
However, Frieze strove to package and sell a romanticized fantasy of LA — Hollywood movie sets! Hip brunch spots! Desert plants and artisanal chocolate! — at the expense of engaging with reality. Nowhere is this more evident than in the promotional materials released in the weeks leading up the event. An article published on Frieze’s website, meant to tout LA’s best hangout spots, asked rapper Edison Chen how he’d spend 24 hours in the city. Chen’s answer dashes from Abbot Kinney to Downtown, from Hollywood to the Arts District, with a quick stop at the Huntington Library in Pasadena for good measure. Angelenos know his expedition is nigh impossible; anyone who attempts to trace his steps will most certainly be trapped in the snarl of rush-hour traffic.
According to LA Mag, Korek hoped that “Frieze LA reflects the friendlier, more laid back vibe California is known for globally.” This notion of California as a languid, indulgent paradise is a construct developed in relation to the east — a product of westward migration.
It’s notable that the festival took place in a quintessentially LA location — a movie set — but one suited up as a New York simulacrum. What the art world’s elites wanted was a milieu at once novel and familiar, all the comforts and trappings of home but infused with glamorous west coast ambiance.
It would be prudent to keep in mind that Frieze LA, at its core, was an art fair. It was not an event catered to the common citizen. The backlot threw a bone to the LA natives who flocked to Frieze out of a love for art and Instagram photo-ops. But its fundamental purpose was to galvanize the international dealers and collectors to make the trek out west, seeking their acknowledgement of LA’s arrival in the contemporary art scene.