CEBU, Philippines - I broke my rule. After repeating over and over that I was not, never, absolutely not going to buy anything at Art Central, there I was, lined up at the cashier and reaching for my wallet. And the worst part of it was, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to get the piece I had my eye on.
See, this was the trap laid by the Australian outfit that had masterminded this brilliant plan to take my money and run. Hire a young, edgy Indonesian artist to create a huge, colorful masterpiece, with plenty of painstaking details, cute faces and clever symbols. Cross-section the entire canvass into little squares. Offer the little squares to bystanders, on a first-come, first-served basis. No reservations allowed.
Then, bestow a paddle with a number to the bidder. Tie a matching bright yellow band on the bidder’s forehead, with “Lot Warrior” prominently stamped on the band. Deploy enthusiastic barkers to promote the mad scramble.
When the number is called, the bidder can point to his preferred cross-section. If, and only if, it’s still there, then the bidder takes home his square. If not, tough luck. The Lot Warrior will have to stand back, assess what’s left, and pick out another cross-section. Meanwhile, the rest of the bidders, who have already paid good money, are hanging on the edge of their tippy-toes, afraid that their personal choice is going to get snatched away first.
Once the heart-thumping, nerve-wracking selection process has finally crescendoed with a valid choice, a gallery employee armed with a hand-held cutter then savagely hacks at the huge mural as the bidder’s chosen cross-section is triumphantly dissected. Photo-document the piece, print out the certificate of authenticity, have the edgy artist on hand to sign the certificate, give plenty of photo-ops, and then hand over the tiny piece of canvass to the bidder.
Combine all of these things, and what do you get? Pandemonium. And, yes, also my credit card swiped in Hong Kong dollars, converted to Aussie dollars (because it was a Sydney gallery) and then converted to pesos by my bank. I was screwed. And it was wonderful.
See, I already had the fortune of meeting Uji Handoko, a.k.a. Hahan, the artist, in Art Stage Jakarta last year. (I even mentioned this encounter in my piece for The Freeman published in October 2016). And now, here the Yogyakarta star was! The exuberant, impish gold digger was right in front of me, grinning from ear to ear. And now was my chance to score an affordable piece by him!
And affordable it was indeed, as the tiny 10-centimeter square was about HK$300. Add another square, and it wouldn’t be $600, the price would be higher than double. Get 10 squares, the maximum allowed, and, still, the final price would be much, much higher than HK$3,000, set instead at closer to Hahan’s true current market value. As explained by the gallery, the 4A Centre for Contemporary Asian Art, this was their way of allowing art lovers with limited budgets (like me, except that I had no budget at all) to finally acquire their own Uji piece.
Wait, the fun didn’t stop there. After essentially gambling my money, the gallery offered me the chance to take another risk. (This gallery was cheeky indeed). If I wished, I could opt to leave my newly-minted Uji piece with them, hang it up for the rest of the art fair, and try to sell it at the price I wanted to sell it for. What a ridiculously insane good idea! (And I must say, a highly intelligent commentary on the whole commercialization of art, where a man’s life output are ripped into tiny pieces of marketable, commodifiable objects and then profited from by speculators).
Nope, I didn’t hawk my Uji piece with the triple blue eyes and green and yellow flecks that was, note, only my second choice. (No, I didn’t score my original pick). I still brought it proudly home – but bizarrely wrestling with the problem of how to frame the piece considering Uji, the infinite trickster, had signed his name not on the canvass, but at the back!
I hate the phrase “rules are meant to be broken,” but in this case, I’m glad I chucked my self-imposed rule. And doubly glad I had taken the time to attend Art Central, despite the fact that numerous art events were scheduled all over the city, with Art Basel lording it over the rest of the city.
In fact, smaller art fairs can and do have an edge over more established giants. When Art Central threw open its tent doors at around the same time as the humongous Art Basel fair a few kilometers away, there was no shortage of talent to compete with the mammoth exhibition halls disgorging stupendous pieces from world-renowned artists over at Basel.
Never mind that the Basel crowd drew the big spenders and the celebrities. For those on the prowl for young, fun pieces from innovative emerging artists, the more intimate Art Central had scads of eye-catching works to offer. (In any case, having multiple art venues was sheer heaven for art lovers.)
Qube Gallery and Vinyl on Vinyl were among the Filipino galleries that played court at the fair, competing with other South East Asian purveyors as well as mid-sized institutions. Walking around had none of the urgency that Basel can sometimes generate, and the less formal space made it easier for gallerists and viewers to connect. Cozy coffee bars and organic food stands set up at the adjoining square lent a festive air.
After securing my Uji piece, I meandered through Japanese fantasy artists, Korean realists, Taiwanese poetic imagery, and my favorites, figurative works from all over the globe. The resulting sensory overload became a blur afterwards, but that is why I took plenty of photos. (At the prices the originals were going for, these repros would have to do for now). But I had absolutely no regrets at making my way to this tent.
At the end of the day, Art Central was a gamble that paid off. (FREEMAN)