by Alex Wells
So I was at an opening of a major Los Angeles gallery this weekend and no-one was there. Ok—five people. Plus staff. The artist wasn’t even there. No snacks, no drinks, no noise. If you hadn’t been told it was an opening you wouldn’t know it. This gallery shows artists I’ve known about since I was in school, artists who have shown in museums all over the world, artists I know so well I am tired of them. The walls are tall, white and clean, the back room is stocked with massive canvases each of which could not possibly cost less than minivans. You could have heard a plastic cup drop, had there been any. Where is everyone?
Now, the recent Art Basel and UBS Survey of Global Collecting shows a massive drop in spending on art since 2022, but this can’t be the entire story as the opening-attending classes are by no means swelled by people actually there to buy work. Artists usually have friends, lovers, students and sometimes even family—at least some of them can usually be counted on to show up. Even in the worst months of the post-bubble economy, art openings were—if nothing else—a great place for starving artists to blow off steam.
And, moreover, all this was more disturbing because it was the best show I’ve seen in months—bold and bracing, paintings made with a clear purpose and talent to burn. This is the fifth time this year I’ve seen a good show underattended—and the most extreme example. Are Angelenos getting lazier? Stupider? Or is the art economy now so bad they can’t even afford an Uber? Or do I just like extremely antisocial artists whose gallerists have no talent for public promotion.
I will chalk it up to anecdote for now, but if it happens one more time, I am going to take it as a sign of crisis in the zeitgeist.
Image: Stock