Or: The French don’t know breakfast

Yesterday I went to Paris rather spontaneously. I attended a party by the Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin (link) at the Centre Pompidou, celebrating the work of Tatiana Trouvé (link). And I don’t speak a word of French, to be honest.

Still, I thought it would be an exciting trip and that I could maybe meet some collectors there. And it was an exciting trip, especially because Gerd Schneider (the one with the bright shirt) a friend, colleague and filmmaker joined me even more spontaneously. Did we meet any collectors? Well …

We took the evening TGV from Stuttgart to Paris, to arrive just in time for the party at 11pm. We had a quick Espresso before we escalated up to “Georges” on the sixth floor. While being in the queue just outside the place, we passed through a cloud of stench from of human digestive by-products. A small downer before the fireworks is always helpful, though …

Anyway, we were greeted very friendly, first in a burst of rapid French and then, after I must have looked completely lost, in perfect English. Merci bien! We had a few drinks, listened to the awesome British band and enjoyed the absolutely fantastic Parisian Skyline.

Then we decided to get to know some people, collectors, if possible. Here is what kind of people we met:

People who work for galleries like Anton Weller (link) and obviously Emmanuel Perrotin, architects, gallerists, painters, musicians, friends of friends of someone who works for a gallery … Did they collect art? No way. At least they didn’t admit it.

Maybe I shouldn’t have resisted the tendency to talk to people over 50. I wanted to talk to people my age. Which might have been the mistake. Next time, I’ll talk to who ever, The young lady from Anton Weller, whose name I have forgotten (it was loud, she spoke with a French accent and there was alcohol involved, plus I’m bad with names to begin with) said that it might be difficult to talk to collectors because they are used to talk to galleries and curators, not other collectors …

We also tried to meet Tatiana herself and were pointed in various direction sthroughout the evening but we never actually found her.

Anyway, the evening went on and a small orgy developed in the men’s room – “Excuse us, we’re very much in love.” So hey, it was a glamorous party! Afterwards we tried to kill the remaining four hours until our train went back in the morning and ended up in the “Temple of Gold”. And at the train station, we found a strange object.

In the very morning we went to get breakfast. Don’t get me wrong, but after a party and a trip like this, a Croissant and a Coffee is a pretty bad excuse for a breakfast.

Bacon, eggs, cheese, sausage … that’s my idea of a breakfast. But maybe I spent too much time in the UK.

After another three hours on the train I ended up back at my office in Stuttgart. Not really wiser but my life enriched by another great, if crazy, art experience.

Or: Brains and Testicles

I attended the Collectors’ Talk at the Hamburger Bahnhof in Berlin on Friday. The German collector Ivo Wessel kindly pointed me in that directon.

So what is the Collector’s Talk? It’s a meeting of art collectors, arranged by the Art Forum Berlin (link), where, on this occasion, two German collectors talked about their collections and their way of collecting.

The place was pretty packed and I could sense a very relaxed mood. The audience ranged from guys in shorts to ladies in full attire. Hah, the art world.

The two “keynote speakers” of the evening were both doctors. One in neurology, one in urology. Thus the moderator, Jörg Heiser from Frieze Magazine, had thought about calling the evening “Brains and Testicles”. But he didn’t and saved the joke for the evening.

Dr. Jan Mackert talked openly about his collection of room-spanning installations and sculptures, yet we never saw how he is actually storing his collection at home. To believe that he has them all installed in the way they’re meant to be would mean to believe that he owns an otherwise empty castle with at least a hundred rooms. And I, honestly speaking, don’t believe that. It would have been great if we could have seen the boxes or shelves he maybe stores them in. Especially since he said a coupld of times that he likes art that is challenging to own …

It was very interesting to see how he fought for the right words to explain the artworks and the reason why he bought them. Somehow I thought it would be something any collector could do asleep. Wondering, whether the words come to him easier when he talks to fewer people, I realized: Collectors are people, too. How comforting!

Dr. Albrecht Kastein really drew me in. I sat way in the back and from my point of view it looked like he was looking down on his hands most of the times, more talking to himself than to the audience. He spoke in a calm voice, thus giving his stories and puns even more weight. The audience chuckled more than once at his fresh wording: “I saw a small black object and I liked it. So it went in the bag.” So far so good. But he also put “in the bag” a large scale painting on another occasion. I’d like to see his bags at some point.

He showed us one photograph of one of the paintings on his walls. But even that looked clean and clinical, not like a home. Maybe it’s the way he lives (which is ok, then) or it’s the way urologists take photographs.

The announced Q&A session at the end didn’t take lace really, because no one had questions. I hadn’t and I thought I would. But their talks left almost no room for discussion. There simply wasn’t anything to argue about.

After the talk I chatted briefly to Ivo Wessel who also missed the “live shots” from art in collectors homes but agreed that you usually have the “clean shots” on file, so you end up using those.

I was introduced to other collectors who then asked me: “What are you collecting?” To which I responded: “I don’t know, yet. I’m just starting.” Which didn’t end the conversation but resulted in a lot of encouragement and a few recommendations, I had heard before: “Go see stuff. Go see A LOT of stuff.”

Which is what I’m going to do.

Or: Across the digital divide on a plank of wood.

I would buy some of Robert Steng’s work if it would fit into any of my apartments. Yes, I occupy two apartments but the problem with Steng’s work is not the size.

Yesterday at the opening of “D.O.A. – Dreaming of Africa” at the Dorten Haus in Stuttgart (link), I made an experience that might be known to collectors. I had the sense that the exhibited works were made to be presented in that space and that they would lose their power outside. Since my spaces are different, I’m afraid they wouldn’t have any power in them. And yes, I’m still looking for things I want to live with …

I like Steng’s work because it is clean and dirty at the same time. Craftsmanship, symmetry and concept applied to found and sometimes worn out woodwork. The mixture appeals to me a lot.

The two curators of the space, Anne-Sofie Ruckhaberle and Philipp Ziegler (the young man in the dark blue shirt) managed to create an exhibition that perfectly fit into the rather awkward space. As if Steng had produced the artworks out of scrap material from the venue.

I assume it is the curatorial quality that shapes a gallery’s profile. What artworks are being selected for that specific space, a space that extends beyond the walls or building of the gallery. I discussed this topic briefly with Philipp, to see if my assumptions were realistic and mentioned the project “Curate This!” by New Orleans based Beca Gallery. They ask “the world” to curate their next show.

Like me, he liked the basic approach (although he agreed that as a gallery he would never do that). Like me, he questions the qualitative outcome of an adventure, where there is no curator to shape the profile of an exhibition space.

I took part in their experiment anyway and I’m very curious which artists make it into the top 10. Have a look here to see for yourself.