It is almost like script in a tattoo because no matter how often one is able to dismiss the mundane and trite, every now and again there is that perfect phrase that stops time. At the Mary Boone booth inside of Basel proper, Barbara Kruger’s huge text pieces were showcased: HOW MUCH, BLEED US DRY, and PLENTY SHOULD BE ENOUGH. In fact, when compared with his “finer” art, the installation, with panels priced from $25 to $75, was graphic, geometrically spare, and engrossing in a way that his self-referential clip art silkscreen mashups aren’t.īut then, most artists are fairly self-referential. On the opposite end of the spectrum was the priced-to-move, slightly haphazard installation of artist Rocky Grimes. So while there were poetic thoughts, there was little visual poetry. In the images, it is clear to see how the sea is reclaiming the objects, and the resulting photographs are beautiful and haunting, but not terribly exciting, as one underwater image looks like another. The former scuba instructor carves and casts life-sized figurative works, then installs them underwater in the Museo Subacuático de Arte (MuSA), the world’s first underwater museum, which will eventually provide the basis for a new reef system. This year, the gallery featured the underwater photography of Jason DeCaires Taylor. Fosik display was breathtaking and ambitious. For example, the Jonathan Levine Gallery can usually be counted on to mount an impressive display that is equal parts playful and profound. It seemed there was an attempt to take the long view of art history and showcase much more serious art. ![]() Last year’s Scope Art Fair was epic and energizing, constrasted with the conservative and quiet of this year. (Full disclosure: My husband, Nick Wagner, was included in the book and opening.) But in the following days, familiar faces were spotted in tents around town. Tattoo Studio Ocho Placas hosted “Omerta,” an art show and book release party to celebrate a book of the same name. Lamborghini aside, even Miamians seemed more comfortable toning down the celebrations this year and doing their own, far-away-from-Basel thing. It was conspicuous consumerism as high art it was absurd and fantastic. The gull-wing doors glide open, a perfectly appointed gentleman steps out, then helps a seven-foot goddess out of the passenger seat so they can grab grinders. Although there were a few SoBe moments, like standing at the La Sandwicherie horking down a prosciutto and fresh mozzarella sandwich after a hard day of dissecting art, and watching a red Lamborghini roar up. As a whole, though, the work seemed more serious and subtle, and in those instances where excess or obviousness emerged, they seemed somehow out of place and gauche. ![]() There was an almost somber Robert Rauschenberg piece and a Ryan McGinley photo that seemed to pander. The vibe, though still Miami Beach, was a little reserved, and even the art on display seemed more concerned with its own near blue-chip status. If last year’s Basel, with citywide sculptures, pop-up parks, and a luminous beachside installation, was an expansive, inclusive celebration, then this year’s scaled back, less effusive display was a return to business. ![]() Rather like a visual counterpart to the Beatles’ Abbey Road, there were soaringly perfect highs guttural base notes oddball, octopus-like inclusions and, for those who looked closely and quietly, Her Royal Majesty. This year’s Art Basel (Miami Beach) was pastiche-like in the forms and textures it consumed and belched back out.
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