Essay written by Bianca Papa
An inflated ‘corpse’ was floating in the harbor. Despite its large size, its pale figure could easily be missed by onlookers visiting the Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre (HKCEC). The white Mickey-like mascot with trademark ‘X’ eyes was the famous Companion (2019) by American artist and designer Kaws. Official descriptions circulated to explain the work reported that Kaws’ popular character was “on vacation” in Hong Kong. In the face of nervous exhibitors and agitated staff members at the massive HKCEC for Art Basel Hong Kong—Asia’s most important art fair—this seemed slightly cruel. But, Kaws’ anti-hero became a true personal ‘companion’ to me during the long hours I worked in the magazines sector at the booth of the Milan-based Kaleidoscope. Dressed in unassuming black, I sat surrounded by the colorful yet rather sinister images featured as two of the four different covers for the latest issue: a half-body shot of American artist and fashion designer Virgil Abloh wearing a leather handbag with holes over his head and a tie-dye shirt; a close up shot of Thai artist Korakrit Arnunanondchai holding a bright green head resembling a death cast up to his own face. My job was to introduce fair-goers to Kaleidoscope and sell copies of the recent issues to those interested.
I was fortunate that the cubicle-like station I was working at looked out over Victoria Harbor. The glass curtain walls before me seemed like a boundary between two worlds. There was an ironic contrast between the gray smoggy sky, the slow movements of the occasional single ship, and the overly-perfect and controlled, but absolutely overstimulating and frenetic, Art Basel. In between moments when visitors came to flip through the magazines at the booth, I found myself waiting for Companion to deflate from a puncture. In my imagination, it happened as it would in a cartoon: the puncture would send Kaws’ character into flight, a whoosh that propelled it across the harbor hitting skyscrapers like a pinball. Thousands of shutter clicks would resound in synch, desperately trying to capture its dramatic metamorphosis on film and in Instagram stories. Instead, the end was rather disappointing: late one morning, I simply noticed it was gone. I had expected Companion to express some of the heavy feelings of pressure and expectation I sensed at the fair.
You Look Sensational
The pressure of Art Basel is connected to its spectacle. It’s a voyeur’s dream that deals largely with seeing and being seen. There is a distinct aesthetic to the fair as a whole and an identifiable social value that comes with this aesthetic, as if participating in its performance were a rite of passage. The audience becomes a part of the experience. People dress in such a way as to become one not only with the exhibition space but with the art: one visitor wore an outfit best described as ‘Little Bo Peep seeking her sheep’ another wore a sleek sequined black gown and heels more suited for the red carpet than walking around hours in a massive multi-floor exhibit with limited seating. Like in a performance, participants sought to attract all eyes on them. But it was never just a stage act: it was more ritual, mystical, spiritual.
The Body is A Canvas; The Persona is a Disappearing Act
At one of the public panel discussions organized for the ‘Conversations’ programme of the fair, participating artists Victoria Sin, Juliana Huxtable, Melati Suryodarmo, Sonia Khurana, and Wu Tsang talked about performance as an opportunity for the body and self to disappear. In a voyeuristic performance, however, there comes a fetishization of body, personality, presence and experience. The lines between public and private blur: observation and interpretation are addictive. The audience is pushed from just being onlookers and passive absorbers, to significant actors, even personalities. Social media acts as not only a way to comment on what is seen but as a curatorial or artistic platform for the masses who empower themselves with their devices, forcing artists and curators to think more about the way their designs will move across the internet.
Oh, the Irony!
For this reason, Kaleidoscope—the Italian magazine I was working to introduce to fair goers—seemed to me the most self-aware at the fair among a variety of publications, the most well-known being Artforum, Frieze, and Art Asia Pacific. Blurring all boundaries between fashion, advertising and art, it aims to break any conventions of genre, field or discipline. Placed next to more traditional art magazines, Kaleidoscope felt the most attuned with the event. It was in its natural habitat among women with luxury handbags, men with glinting silver watches and youths in “ironically” fashionable streetwear: the very objects it proudly claimed had already become a new media of art. Fashion and product, often flirting between categorization as commodity or art, was the future of art; the people—we ourselves—would become its canvas. As a magazine, it not only sells its particular approach to graphic design but also its philosophical premises: the art direction of Kaleidoscope treats the space of the magazine as a space to curate rather than as one to fill with copy, display type, and images. Flipability and evocative interplay between images is the primary value, not legibility: the fingertips rather than the eye are the important organ of vision.
Instaheaven, Instant Curation
At another one of the public discussions hosted at the fair, Beijing Artist Tao Hui referred to social networks as part of what he called the mass performance era. Meanwhile, Isaac Leung, director of the Hong Kong-based arts organization Videotage, spoke in-depth about the radical shift of power and ownership within art from the select governing-few to the masses on an international scale. Authority today has shifted to the audience. Previously audience power was meager: powerful groups selected works and decided what art could be made, where it could be shown, and who it could be seen by. The experience of viewing contemporary art is always framed by social media: via Instagram it seems anyone can become a curator of their own digital space. Art can now be produced and shown without the constraints of the old powers. The politics of art is no longer impenetrable. Nonetheless, consumer demand still decides what should be and what will be created. Artists need funding and support: works cannot be realized unless they have significant backing. In a world where everyone can be a creator and everyone has a say, all art must be made with its reception in mind.
From Niche to Net Worth
Kaws himself started as a graffiti artist from Jersey City. He developed some attention for tagging street signs with his playful cartoons and characters, but it was only through embracing the commercial—something often mocked and reviled by the street art scene as “selling out”—did he truly make his name. Heading to Japan he began designing and selling the limited edition toys based on ‘Companion’ and the other cartoon-like figures of his imagined youth that quickly meteored him into fame. Kaws was once beloved by a niche audience but by transitioning into the commercial and designing for a larger target audience he became a massively successful designer. Companion and his other supersized sculptures are emblematic of his transition from playful street art to fashion, product and grandiosity. His work sells out in seconds; people come from all over the world just to see his paintings and sculptures; his work and collaborations have astoundingly high demand that never seem to dim. From the kid in Jersey who defaced stop signs to a billionaire artist, he now has his own studio, company and staff. Audience interest can more than ever make or break an artist.
The Mystique of the Phantom OR [Godspeed, Little Wanderer]
It was a simple weather issue that had prematurely ended Companion’s vacation in Hong Kong. Disgruntled tourists and aficionados who had come thousands of miles looking for a new trophy for their photos-feeds expressed annoyance at the stroke of misfortune: as a result of its ‘vacation’ ending an entire weekend early, many missed the opportunity to see the massive mouse up close. Perhaps that was simply part of Companion’s own Art Basel performance. Companion had teased the public with news of its short stay, beckoned them to visit, then disappeared without a trace. In a single night Companion was gone: leaving behind an empty harbor and a foggy sky. I went home exhausted but exhilarated after another stimulating SCAD experience, ready for the beginning of the Spring quarter the following morning. No sleep for the dreamer.
