海角大神

Michael Shnayerson鈥檚 鈥淏oom: Mad Money, Mega Dealers, and the Rise of Contemporary Art鈥� leaves me less impressed by the state of the art and more concerned for the fate of art. Shnayerson, a contributing editor for Vanity Fair, sums up the book鈥檚 message: 鈥淪ometime in the late 1990s, a fundamental change occurred.鈥� One word replaced another: 鈥淭he art world, in all its manifestations, became an art market.鈥�

In a well-researched narrative, drawing on scores of interviews with dealers, curators, artists, and critics, Shnayerson details this transformation. He begins in the 1940s, when heiress Peggy Guggenheim showed paintings by Jackson Pollock and artists who became known as abstract expressionists. In the 1950s, as the center of the avant-garde shifted from Paris to New York, Betty Parsons and Sidney Janis represented giants like Willem de Kooning, Barnett Newman, and Mark Rothko. The story takes off when the suave Leo Castelli (aided by the keen eye of his wife Ileana) established his gallery in 1957 and nurtured artists he discovered like Robert Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns, pop artists like Andy Warhol, minimalists and conceptual artists.

In contrast to the current 鈥渕onetization鈥� of art, Castelli 鈥� the foremost contemporary art dealer for five decades 鈥� gave generous stipends to unknown artists until they were recognized by collectors and museums. (He supported the minimalist sculptor Donald Judd for years before his work became popular.) As pop artist Roy Lichtenstein told me in 1991 when I wrote a profile of Castelli, 鈥淗e鈥檚 less interested in money than he is in art. He鈥檚 very much for the artists.鈥�

Shnayerson pinpoints 1999, the year of Castelli鈥檚 death at age 91 as a turning point. After that, he recounts how four 鈥渕ega鈥� galleries, helmed by bottom-line-oriented dealers like Larry Gagosian, David Zwirner, Iwan Wirth of Hauser & Wirth, and Arne and Marc Glimcher of Pace Gallery, came to dominate the art market. With U.S. art sales at almost $30 billion in 2018, the bigger galleries now account for more than 50% of sales, while works by the top 20 living artists command 64% of the market.

Most buyers, such as hedge-fund billionaires, oligarchs, and Middle East potentates, are among the top .01% in wealth. This 鈥渉appy, swaggering group of high-net-worth, high testosterone captains of finance鈥� patronize the Big Four galleries. They scoop up works by the same name-brand artists like Damien Hirst, Richard Prince, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Gerhard Richter, and Jeff Koons (whose 1986 stainless-steel 鈥淩abbit鈥� set a record earlier this spring at auction of $91 million). Often 鈥� although the trophy works lend social cachet 鈥� the purchase is motivated by a strategy to diversify a portfolio or flip the art as its price increases. Contemporary art has become an asset class.

Even artists who鈥檝e seen their prices at auction rise stratospherically protest the insanity of the market. 鈥淚t鈥檚 just as absurd as the banking crisis,鈥� Richter told Reuters in 2011, adding, 鈥淚t鈥檚 impossible to understand and it鈥檚 daft.鈥� The book quotes Peter Doig (whose hallucinatory paintings, touted as masterpieces by auction houses, sell for tens of millions) admitting, 鈥淭here鈥檚 no such thing as a contemporary masterpiece. It can鈥檛 be decided in your own time, really. So, it鈥檚 all marketing.鈥�

This guided tour of the art world allows the reader to hobnob vicariously with the super-rich and art stars. Who knew that rubber-soled Loro Piana moccasins are 鈥渢he ne plus ultra of slip-ons鈥�? Or that Madonna, as a young, aspiring singer was girlfriend and driver for Basquiat before his brief life ended from an overdose? But besides throwaway anecdotes and insider tidbits, the book鈥檚 serious clout derives not from buzzy glitz but from valid biz insights.

We learn that art is now a hyper-inflated commodity and status symbol, abetted by forces like globalization and rampant income inequality. (Gagosian has 16 galleries across the world selling to the ultra-rich.) The celebrity-fication of individual artists and dealers has led to a skewed notion of value; the artist鈥檚 and dealer鈥檚 鈥渂rands鈥� are what persuade buyers to invest; their merit is equated with sale price. Social media also hypes artists鈥� reputations, like the Instagrammable 鈥淚nfinity Mirror Rooms鈥� that brought overdue acclaim to Yayoi Kusama.

The book offers more than a tour of a dazzling world of privilege. The reader gets a succinct overview of recent art through capsule summaries of major artists and movements. For instance, the author summarizes Kara Walker鈥檚 work by describing her 鈥渃utpaper silhouettes of black figures against white walls鈥� enacting tragic antebellum scenes. 鈥淭he gentility of the form of cutouts was contradicted by the fierceness of what she was talking about,鈥� New Yorker critic Hilton Als told Shnayerson.

The author also credits pioneering female gallerists, often less risk-averse and more steeped in art history than their male counterparts, for playing more significant roles in the art business than in any other high-finance niche.

One warning the book delivers is that, with the mega galleries鈥� consolidation of power, small and mid-size galleries are going belly-up. Soaring rents and the cost of art fairs across the globe take a toll, but the biggest threat comes from profit-hungry artists and dealers. All too often, when artists whom small galleries support gain attention, the Big Four poach them. Without their sales, minor galleries鈥� business is unsustainable. The pipeline of emerging artists constricts, leaving the future in jeopardy.

Beneath the spectacle and speculation that characterize our culture in general and 鈥淏oom鈥� in particular is a disconcerting subtext. Will the mania for contemporary art, like the 17th-century lust for tulips, be followed by a spectacular bust?