| TED KRUCKEL 07.14.09 8:00 AM |
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| ArtHamptons Delivers Much-Needed Summer and Style |
| Rolling human balls, balloon-gown wearing men, and big money on the walls—it's ArtHamptons, and not a moment too soon. |
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FROM NEW YORK Summer 2009 just can’t seem to kick-start itself, what with the cold, dreary weather, empty beaches, and unrented manses. But this has its benefits… P. Diddy took his White Party elsewhere, after all.
But there are signs of life. There’s a new Diane von Furstenberg store in Southampton, and the Montauk Yacht Club had a splashy redo. But so far the biggest harbinger of better times I’ve seen is this year’s ArtHamptons, a four-day show in Bridgehampton that opened July 9 with a benefit kickoff for East Hampton’s Guild Hall. |
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PHOTO GALLERY |
 | Childe Hassam is hot now thanks to the Astor trial. But isn't this seascape of Gloucester Harbor pretty?
Photo: Courtesy of ArtHamptons |
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 | Meet Steve Zalusi: He's a rolling artist/harmonica player determined to bring fun to the art scene.
Photo: Courtesy of ArtHamptons |
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 | Owing to magnificent weather, the new sculpture garden was everyone's favorite spot. But please, more seating next year!
Photo: Courtesy of ArtHamptons |
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 | Parts of this bench are 300 years old, and felt it, but the chicness of ArtHamptons' V.I.P. room can't be denied.
Photo: Chris Arnold |
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 | This Wyeth painting, The Reefer, combines the artist's haunting quality with a beach scene—a perfect match for ArtHamptons.
Photo: Chris Arnold |
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Almost everyone agreed that this year’s show was a step up. For starters, there are 30 percent more galleries exhibiting than last year; a surprising spike, given the economy. And the level of art is now stratospheric. Hampton Road Gallery hung side-by-side Andrew Wyeths valued at a combined $7 million, while down the hall, for a cool $1.1 million, you could buy a Childe Hassam. (He’s the one that painted “Flags on Fifth Avenue,” which Anthony Marshall sold right out from under his mother, Brooke Astor.) It’s an Impressionist seascape of Gloucester Harbor, Massachusetts, painted in 1919, and the price includes a nifty gilt frame. Go to godelfineart.com if you must have it.
Onlookers also agreed that the staging of this year’s show was a huge improvement. A giant flex-frame structure by PJ McBride houses the main exhibits, replacing the confusing set of smaller tents from last year. The tents had plush flooring and carpeting. An outdoor sculpture garden is a jazzy new addition, with the highlight being a performance art piece by Steve Zaluski. His aluminum sphere cut by water jets into little humanoid interlocking pieces reminded me of Keith Haring, “but he actually copied me,” the artist corrected. Uh huh.
As if the fact that he acts as a sort of human hamster, rolling around in his arty exercise ball, wasn’t enough to grab attention, Zaluski also plays the harmonica and grants interviews. “I’m trying to bring fun into the art world, which takes itself too seriously,” Zaluski explained, somewhat unnecessarily. We took a break so he could roll out of the way of a truck. The security people told me they had only given Zaluski two rules: Nobody but him was allowed in the sphere, and no running into anything. “I’m going to test their boundaries, though,” Zaluski promised. If you must have Zaluski rolling around at your outdoor event, then zaluskisculpturestudios.com is your link.
The V.I..P lounge was sponsored by Louise Blouin Media, which publishes Art+Auction magazine and Gallery Guide, and it was wildly designed by Karim Saidi Santa Kilim (santakilim@gmail.com). The main furnishings were magnificent Turkish-looking leather-seated benches, some Hindu, some from Pakistan, tossed with flokati rugs and African pillows. Think Conan (the Barbarian, not O’Brien). I learned one sofa back was fitted with pieces from a 300-year-old Himalayan shrine. The primitive vibe is completely authenticated once you sit: They are supremely uncomfortable.
I stopped by to take Ruth Vered’s temperature. You remember her: She’s the owner of an eponymous East Hampton gallery who got arrested last year for serving wine without a permit at preview of the Steven Klein exhibit of his photos of Madonna and her horses. (Anyone wanting to see where Madonna fell off her horse can go to Steven Klein’s house this Saturday, July 18, where Acria is hosting a party (acria.org).
I asked her what happened with her case. “I paid a fine, but they are still not happy with me, those police. Nobody likes it when you make them look like a fool.” Since her arrest could have been avoided with a simple party permit for serving alcohol, I asked if she was toeing the line. “All the other galleries, they have to get permits now. But they won’t give me one. They are too mad at me. But I have some champagne here. Do you want some?” Not wanting to get busted, I kept moving.
Have I mentioned that there are all types at this event? And that the only thing more fun than admiring their finery is eavesdropping on their conversations? People say the most amazing things at art shows. There are the brainy types who “art talk;” the ones who can’t fathom modern art and like to make sarcastic comments; and then the ones who mention loudly how much everything costs, including the ones that they own.
Back at the sculpture garden, I met an artist by the name of Muffinhead. His work took place later in the weekend, but he gave me a little oral preview: “I’m dressing in a balloon gown. Three hundred red and white balloons of various sizes. There’s a headpiece that I’ve built and balloons are attached to that too.”
What does he do once he gets all duded up? “I just sort of swan around slowly and make small talk.” How do you prevent people from stepping on the balloons in a nightclub setting? “You don’t. I’m always hearing the sound of popping balloons. I hate it.”
This event has its question marks. Why is Kelsey Grammer, TV’s Frazier, one of the symposium speakers? And what about that pesky Page Six item about last year’s caterer, Mark Fahrer, having to fight tooth and nail to get paid? And apparently organizer/collector Rick Friedman, the former producer and emcee of Dance Fever, has some detractors.
As we chat, word goes round that the bar has closed, and people start grabbing the gift bags hungrily, ignoring the lady with a clipboard who is trying to explain that there is a male/female gift bag dispersal scheme.
“Art is fun,” I think walking towards my car. Zaluski would be proud.
—Ted Kruckel
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