For the eighth consecutive year, New York City’s very own Randall’s Island this May hosts one of the leading art fairs of the world: the Frieze Art Fair. For eight days, Randall’s Island gets an exponentially increasing amount of traffic as posh gallerists, underpaid interns, avant-garde artists, eager collectors and dedicated art lovers from all over the world and from just around the corner, leave their permanent or temporary Manhattan homes to swap one island for another. The fair’s look is deceptive. The tent that houses the 190-odd galleries and god-knows-how-many artworks worth go-knows-how-many millions looks alarmingly vulnerable to New York weather. Winds could rip it off the ground sending all the artwork to the four corners of the world. Rain could flatten it to the ground, flooding each and every hall. Inside, you enter a different world. The tent lacks windows, and its fake walls simulate the look of a white-walled gallery. That ambiance along with the bevy of artworks and people makes you forget that you are in fact in a tent, on Randall’s Island. Like when you’re at the theater and watching something that really draws you in and you don’t realize it until the thing is over and you have to go outside and see the real world again, the world you actually inhabit.
The fair itself lasts five days. The other three are for setup and takedown, the last day reserved strictly for hangovers. The public can only visit the fair for three of these five days: Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Private previews are held on Wednesdays and Thursdays. If Thursday is for the Very Important People—the distinguished ones who purchase their tickets and status online—then Wednesday is for the V.V.I.Ps. Tickets for this preview can’t be bought. You get them by being or knowing someone. To join the Wednesday preview you are either invited by a gallery, a gallerist, the Frieze Director himself, or you’re lucky enough to have a confidante inside with a pass to spare. Although more of a networking social event than a sales-heavy workday, the Wednesday opening is the most important performance—it’s all theater.
On Wednesday, the fair opens at 11:00 a.m. Collectors will be there starting at 11:30. Art consultants, art-critics and art-world socialites at 12:30. Gallerists have been there since 10. Interns since 8:30. By the time the doors open, everyone who is already inside has adopted and perfected their multiple personas. If you need to invent a Grandma from Cordoba to connect with a Spanish buyer, you invent a Grandma from Cordoba. The story of your persona can’t be completely fictional, but your personal connection to the world you’re attempting to impress definitely can. Organization, adaptability, indifference to change and nerves of steel are de rigueur for both employees and employers on this Wednesday
The higher one’s position, the more room there is for tardiness and the less for faux-pas. Being late? Totally acceptable—the work can fall back on someone else. Wearing the wrong shade of green with the wrong shade of blue? A mistake on the order of original sin.
Directors can be found taking extra-long smoke breaks on the patio next to the trendy Brooklyn-based pop-up restaurants, approaching clients and avoiding being approached by demanding and unsolicited artists. Interns and assistants are usually found inside, talking up their pieces, networking—but not too obviously in case the boss finds out. As the experts deftly make their moves, the rookies are expected to take enough mental notes to fill a whole legal pad. They’ll soon be thrown into the deep end of the pool. One of them always looks busy—but they’re keeping one ear attuned to the conversation, ready to jump in at any point. Transactions are made as fast as collectors move. Some collectors are more interesting than others, some are more interested, some are more interested but less interesting. As the halls fill up with Balenciaga sneakers and Dior saddlebags—both very in season—their owners need to be categorized, organized, processed and approached in the correct manner. If all is done with wit and humor, the transaction is a success.
When people say a lot can happen in a day, they’re referring to the Wednesday preview. As with any other aspect of life in New York, the pace does not slow down or allow for stops. Breaks are not truly breaks, they’re work in a casual context. The glamour of it all makes both buyers and sellers forget they are exhausted, until the speakers announce “It is now 7pm. The fair is closed” and everyone leaves Randall’s island as eagerly as they left Manhattan. On Thursday, they’ll be back for more.