Frieze Week Day 3

Gavin Turk curates prints in a caravan outside the more experimental and creative Zoo fair.

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Wake up in the morning shattered but with a slight sense of achievement. After speaking to other art geeks realise I’m one of the only people to have seen every stall at Frieze. Fail miserably to make the Scope breakfast opening and see Elle Forester’s selection of graffiti influenced new wave artists. Head to Zoo in the afternoon – often a far better and more creative option than Frieze.

Outside Gavin Turk had sent up a caravan to show in relation to his delightful festival project The House of Fairy Tales. Turk had curated a stunning set of prints that came in a box – even though not officially from a gallery. Adam Dant’s Bogeyman and Rachel Whiteread’s image of a dolls’ tea party kept a children’s book edge, alongside brilliant works by Peter Blake, Spartacus Chetwynd, Harland Miller and Cornelia Parker. I consider about maxing a credit card to buy one of these boxes. Inside Zoo is crampt but not too horrific – they are tight on numbers here and queues outside always persist. The work overall feels younger, fresher, more experimental. Racing around the two floors specific artists stick out. V1 from Copenhagen (arguably one of the best galleries in Europe) has some stunning giant work on anatomy prints by Troels Carlsen alongside some wild psychadelic paintings by Richard Coleman. A very new direction from illustrative Marcel Dzama-style children into chaos. There’s still a good dose of darker art here. Neil Hamon had created a stunning sculptural piece of a disembodied wooden hand. The pool of blood beneath its wooden bone was made from deep red marble. Yum. Wes Lang had a whole Zieher Smith stall devoted to his work – amazing drawings interspersed with weird found photo images, while Des Hughes has his signature gothic sculptures on display – including brilliant knitted hats and gloves that looks like rusted armour.

I spot David Risley alumni Charlie Woolley and James Aldridge before I leave  - they had disappeared to the Crow bar in Soho for a dose of hard metal last night. Apologise for my drunken haze and head off to Eastcastle Street to see David Altmejd at Stuart Shave Modern Art, Philippe Parreno at Pilar Corrias new space opposite and Thomas Zipp at Alison Jacques on Berners Street around the corner. This Fitzrovia art revival is bloody great. Altmejd show (which attracts Keanu Reeves – will this week have no end to comedy celebrity spottings?) is absolutely jaw droppingly fantastic. Two black walled rooms filled with sculptural monsters giving blow jobs in crystal, plaster and mirrors. Parrenos’ effort across the road is rubbish in contrast – a Christmas tree with oversized baubles. And that’s it. It looks like a rather bad window from Debenhams. Thomas Zipp around the corner is far more like it with great black flower paintings high on the wall around a wooden theatre style seats. In the middle Zipp and his band were performing for the night – wearing white suits and tights on their faces. Playing recorders, kazoos, Hammond organ and with Zipp himself ranting in German, it seems the perfect accompaniment to his art. Spend the next hour moving between each gallery bumping into artists – Harry Burden, Sam Griffin, lots of young fresh RCA graduates. They are heading east for the Gavin Brown/ Herald Street party – but my liver can’t face it. I also miss the Fantastic Man Peres Projects party at Bistroteque. Instead I go to the Sanderson hotel across the road for a final goodbye to art chaos. Keanu’s there again and laugh with artists Stephen Dunne and Anthony Green about the presence of Neo.

For some the week is just beginning. The shows are only just opening to the public and a smattering of things open on the week. Friday night Paperback magazine launch their next issue with a show of Yamamoto EYE from The Boredoms at the B Store, Matthew Stone’s curated show Optimism hits Hannah Barry in south London, Art Review’s Top 100 party attracts the powerful in Mayfair and Aaron Rose plays his silent Sads gigs at the ICA on the weekend.  I however am giving up and leaving the country. My body bruised, my eyes exhausted but a sense that even though this week could be seen as all about money, hype and decadence in these harder times what emerges is some really good art.
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