No one was willing to buy what was quite likely the most inflammatory piece of art at this year’s Armory Show — a 150cm-by-239cm watercolor of Bernard Madoff — but plenty of people had interesting ideas on what to do with the painting, and its infamous subject, who stands accused of operating a US$50 billion worldwide Ponzi scheme.
“They should charge a buck a dart to toss at that thing,” said Brian Tepper, 39, an artist and art therapist, as he stared at Madoff’s outsized visage, which gazed back with a faint smile and almost wistful eyes. The portrait, rendered in gray, black and white by the China-born artist Yan Peiming (嚴培明), was priced at US$100,000.
Tepper was with two artist friends, Chris Cozel, 52, who remarked that she would like to see Madoff “crucified,” and Virginia Dutton, also 52, who proposed doing a portrait of Madoff, in one of her favorite media: blood.
Given the economic crash, it was hardly surprising that no one wanted to pay six figures for a portrait of one of the most vilified figures in the world. Writing by e-mail from Paris, Yan said he had finished the painting in one day, and chose Madoff because he was “a kind of symbol of the economic crisis, a kind of personalization of the savage speculation, without control.”
Asked who might buy such a painting, Yan, whose work is being exhibited in the Louvre, wrote “everything can be sold in this world.” Yet not, it seemed, at the Armory Show. David Zwirner, the gallery owner who displayed the Madoff painting, said that he was unprepared for the slowness of sales at this year’s show, which ran for five days and ended on Sunday.
“I went there with low expectations,” said Zwirner, “and they were not met.”
Regulars at the fair along the Hudson River at 55th Street, said the energy was far lower this year. People who waited in long lines in years past were surprised when they waltzed right in. One visitor, Thomas Warnke, 41, an architect, said he liked the thinner crowds. “There’s better air,” he said.
In the first few hours after the fair opened at noon on Sunday, the hallways between booths seemed ghostly, though the place grew more crowded — and merrier — as the day wore on and more wine was dispensed.
Giovanni Garcia-Fenech, the show’s spokesman, said the turnout was bigger than the 52,000 who attended last year. Compared to previous years, the fair was also bigger: it had expanded from one Hudson pier to two. This meant that more galleries exhibited, though Garcia-Fenech said that the applications for spots were due in August (booth rental runs between US$9,700 and US$57,500), before the economic crisis had fully hit.
Privately, gallery owners said they usually were prepared to knock 10 percent off asking prices, but this year were accepting offers of up to 30 percent off.
One booth that was consistently hopping was that of Ronald Feldman Fine Arts, where an artist, Christine Hill, had set up a faux apothecary and was listening to people’s woes and dispensing “prescriptions” and advice, for US$20 and up. Hill was hearing it all, from insomniacs, regretful lovers, discontented children and infertile couples. Surprisingly few people expressed panic over financial worries, she said.
Several gallery owners said they would most likely not take part in next year’s show, among them Isabella Bortolozzi, who runs a gallery in Berlin. This year was her first at the Armory, but as of midday Sunday she was deeply disappointed — she had yet to sell anything.
Yet Frank Elbaz, the gallery owner showing at the booth across from Bortolozzi, was ebullient. He had brought seven pieces by Gyan Panchal over from his gallery in Paris, including a torn ink cartridge package with a stick of charcoal resting inside, each priced between US$3,000 and US$7,000. On Saturday, he sold all seven to someone he would describe only as a top Democratic lobbyist from Washington.
Another decidedly pleased exhibitor was Vladimir Ovcharenko of the Regina Gallery in Moscow. On Saturday, he sold a neon sign by a French artist, Claire Fontaine, for US$20,000.
It read: “Capitalism Kills.”
June 2 to June 8 Taiwan’s woodcutters believe that if they see even one speck of red in their cooked rice, no matter how small, an accident is going to happen. Peng Chin-tian (彭錦田) swears that this has proven to be true at every stop during his decades-long career in the logging industry. Along with mining, timber harvesting was once considered the most dangerous profession in Taiwan. Not only were mishaps common during all stages of processing, it was difficult to transport the injured to get medical treatment. Many died during the arduous journey. Peng recounts some of his accidents in
“Why does Taiwan identity decline?”a group of researchers lead by University of Nevada political scientist Austin Wang (王宏恩) asked in a recent paper. After all, it is not difficult to explain the rise in Taiwanese identity after the early 1990s. But no model predicted its decline during the 2016-2018 period, they say. After testing various alternative explanations, Wang et al argue that the fall-off in Taiwanese identity during that period is related to voter hedging based on the performance of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). Since the DPP is perceived as the guardian of Taiwan identity, when it performs well,
A short walk beneath the dense Amazon canopy, the forest abruptly opens up. Fallen logs are rotting, the trees grow sparser and the temperature rises in places sunlight hits the ground. This is what 24 years of severe drought looks like in the world’s largest rainforest. But this patch of degraded forest, about the size of a soccer field, is a scientific experiment. Launched in 2000 by Brazilian and British scientists, Esecaflor — short for “Forest Drought Study Project” in Portuguese — set out to simulate a future in which the changing climate could deplete the Amazon of rainfall. It is
The Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) on May 18 held a rally in Taichung to mark the anniversary of President William Lai’s (賴清德) inauguration on May 20. The title of the rally could be loosely translated to “May 18 recall fraudulent goods” (518退貨ㄌㄨㄚˋ！). Unlike in English, where the terms are the same, “recall” (退貨) in this context refers to product recalls due to damaged, defective or fraudulent merchandise, not the political recalls (罷免) currently dominating the headlines. I attended the rally to determine if the impression was correct that the TPP under party Chairman Huang Kuo-Chang (黃國昌) had little of a
RSS