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jupiter’s orbit
Aug 2007 by
richard speer
The girl
hanging over the motel balcony is a picture of Northwest cool:
jet-black bangs, piercings in her eyebrows and lips, and more
ink on her shoulders and arms than you’d find in an
alternative printing press. She’s calling to somebody
downstairs, a guy who looks like a rock star—no, wait, he is a
rock star, he’s just coming off rehearsal for tonight’s gig at
the Doug Fir Lounge next door—and she’s yelling at him to come
up, come up right now to her room, because the art is so cool.
The art is so cool. The guy, he’s lost now in eddies of
black-clad hipsters channeling through the courtyard, and the
girl, she’s waving in his general direction, trying to find
him, but now she’s caught up too in the soft migration from
one end of the overlook to the other, amidst a woman wearing Bulgari and a man with an unrecognizable accent, and another
man with very large eyeglasses who is shepherding a very large
bag through the throng. It is September in Portland, Oregon, and
the art is so cool.
The scene just described
transpired in September of last year, but it’s typical of the
sort of tableaux that play out and etch themselves into the
memory every year at the “Affair at the Jupiter Hotel,” for
this is an unlikely sort of art fair where milieus commingle
and multiple agendas—sales, positioning, networking,
collaboration—tend to converge rather than
compete.
This will be the fourth year for the “Affair”
(running September 14 –16), which Portland curator Jeff Jahn
describes as “not just a naked exercise in commerce, but an
art fair with a soul.” Forty galleries will take part,
including a baker’s dozen from the Northwest and the remainder
hailing from locales as disparate as New York City, Toronto,
Dallas, Boston, Oakland, San Francisco, Boise, Albuquerque,
and Orlando. Each exhibitor sets up shop in a ground-floor or
second-story room at the retro-hip Jupiter Hotel, a former
motor court that has emerged from decades of seedy decline
into the glow of minimalist chic, all white walls and blue
neon, with an open courtyard prized among fair attendees for
what Jahn terms its “ample oxygen and vistas on which to see
and be seen.” Located on the funkily charming east side of the
Willamette River, which divides Portland in half, the venue
affords a glossy yet convivial atmosphere conducive to
elbow-rubbing, cocktailing, and, lest one forget, selling
art.
Affair at the Jupiter Hotel is the brainchild of
Stuart Horodner, who founded it in 2004 and has served as
co-organizer along with Portland gallery owner Laurel Gitlen
since 2005. Currently exhibitions and education director at
the Atlanta Contemporary Art Center, Horodner hatched the idea
for the Affair after he was laid off from his erstwhile
curatorial position with the Portland Institute for
Contemporary Art, a layoff precipitated by funding woes common
in a city blessed with a thriving artist culture but cursed
with an anemic collector base. As Horodner tells it, these
factors spurred him “to bring the mountain to Mohammed”—to
import a varied cadre of galleries for a three-day fair in
order to introduce Northwest artists to national collectors,
and vice versa. “It was an attempt,” he says, “to say to
colleagues around the country: ‘Come to Portland,’” and to
create a conduit for dialogue between artists within and
without the Northwest. In so doing, he aimed “to help the
community raise itself by its bootstraps and get it to be more
communicative with other cities.”
In 2004 as now, there
was a calibrated mix of galleries from the Northwest and
elsewhere, and an equally well-considered ratio of established
galleries to up-and-comers. According to Horodner, attendance
in 2004 was around 3,000, with the majority of sales scored by
Portland galleries—“which was interesting, given that people
could have gone to those galleries any day of the week.” In 2005, conversely, when attendance increased modestly to
3,500, there were higher sales among out-of-towners, while in
2006, with another bump up to 4,000 fair-goers, the split was
roughly even, a proportion Horodner hopes will
hold.
“Art fairs are always about location,” says
Elizabeth Leach, whose eponymous gallery ranks among
Portland’s most prestigious. “It’s that old adage, ‘location,
location, location,’ and the Affair’s location is in a city
that is developing a market for art as opposed to a city that
has already developed a market for art. So it’s perfect for
creating opportunities for local audiences to see art they
might not otherwise see—and it’s an instance of the arts
fueling the economy: bringing people to Portland, they book
hotel rooms, they eat in our restaurants, and so on.”
A
continent and a world away from the sell-or-die hothouses of
Art Basel Miami Beach and the Armory Show, the “Affair” is by
all reports a mixed bag when it comes to sales. Seattle’s Greg
Kucera Gallery is participating this year for the third year
in a row, yet Kucera reports that “we have yet to sell
something to a client at the Affair who we didn’t already know
before the Affair... We remain ever hopeful of developing a
larger client base.” His goal this year for the gallery “is to
meet some new collectors and feel like we’ve plowed some new
territory.” Because the price for an exhibition room is low
($1,500 to $2,500 for commercial galleries), some dealers view
the weekend more as long-term investment than short-term
revenue raiser. New York dealer Barry Neuman’s art
consultantship, Modern Culture, participated in the Affair’s
2004 and 2006 outings and will be returning this year. He
finds the Affair “a rare and welcome opportunity to be part of
a developing and growing market,” and while he declined to
disclose specific sales figures he confirms that Modern
Culture fared better in 2006 than 2004. “The significance of
the revenue that’s generated during an art fair isn’t always
straightforward,” he adds, since the payoff often comes via
“follow-up opportunities in the 6- to 24-month interval
afterwards.” Neuman also points to hard-to-quantify
opportunities such as the Roberta Bayley photography show to
which he gave over his Jupiter space last year. During the
course of the fair, Portland dealer Bob Kochs of Augen Gallery
saw Bayley’s photos, took to them, and made arrangements to
mount a show for the artist this September.
In another
Affair tie-in, Kochs also began carrying work by Gen X
minimalist Scott Ingram as a result of meeting Ingram and
seeing his work in Solomon Projects’ room at the Jupiter.
These casual convergences that lead to partnerships are far
from the only points of added value above and beyond
exhibitors’ bottom lines. Each year, organizers invite a
handful of arts nonprofits to attend for free in order to add
a non-commercial perspective to the meta-discourse among
participants and attendees. In its second year, the Affair
sponsored a benefit for the Portland Art Museum, proceeds of
which allowed Northwest art curator Jennifer Gately to
purchase two works for the Museum from two galleries
exhibiting at the fair. In addition, Horodner and Gitlen have
brought in noted figures to lecture and participate in panel
discussions during the Affair’s run, among them Larry Rinder,
Saul Ostrow, Hamza Walker, and, this year, curator Tina
Kukielski from the Whitney Museum of American Art. The
Affair’s leadership has commissioned multiples from conceptual
artist Harrell Fletcher, photographer Marne Lucas, and
video/installation artist Joe Sola. This year’s “bonus
content” is twofold: a survey of fanciful figurative drawings
by psy-folk rocker Devendra Banhart and a book to be titled
Doing Business, which will include reminiscences and mementos
from Affair participants about their experiences on the
frontier of art and commerce.
The Affair’s complement
of hustle and beneficence, carried out in a uniquely convivial
setting, is one of its strongest suits and perhaps its most
potent influence on other fairs. Its 2004 debut so impressed
Seattle artists Jaq Chartier and Dirk Park that they
undertook, with Horodner’s blessing, to use it as a model for
a new fair they envisioned as a fresh satellite of Art Basel
Miami Beach. The new fair came to fruition; it was called
“Aqua;” and it was a hit, a big hit, among power-walking
cognoscenti drawn to the cozy mise-en-scène: a dusting of
Northwest bonhomie amidst the salsa beats and haute couture of
South Beach. Back in Portland, the fair that helped make Aqua
such a big splash remains resolutely intimate. Some dealers
have called for the Affair to grow and accept more galleries,
but Horodner insists: “We haven’t really wanted to expand it.
My priority is to guarantee that the people who come do
business. Only if the audience of collectors expands
exponentially would I expand it, if I were to expand it at
all.” For now, he says, he is happy with the Affair’s “almost
familial scale: it’s like being at a great dinner party where
a lot of the guests wind up doing business together after the
party’s done.”
Aug 2007 by
richard speer
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