3+ Fairs in 3 Days While Mildly Congested
Art Daddy Tips to LA Art Week Featuring Red Dots, Real Shoes, Yacht Men, and the Art of Controlled Delusion
Art Daddy has landed in LA and I think I am finally understanding why people love it. Arriving on a red eye that left during a literal blizzard a day before and landning at a dead, glowing, almost suspiciously calm LAX is psychological whiplash at 5 AM EST. My travel got pushed back three times this week. It was chaotic. It was dramatic. It was meteorologically violent. And yet somehow, I was early. I had time for wine. I responsibly engineered my Xanax and Benadryl travel cocktail. I slept almost four hours. Growth. But am now congested among other things.
Add to that Art Daddy friend and lovely human Broc Blegen landing at the exact same time on a different plane = California commuting magic. We shared a cab. We had a grounding experience. We saw one another at an ungodly hour. Entering the LA fever dream with a friendly face, mild reassurance, and overhead palm trees is how you prevent full dissociation before breakfast.
Broc’s gallery Post Times, a darling of the NYC Chinatown scene, is doing Post-Fair. They are sharp, scrappy, and consistently ahead of the curve, with programming that actually feels considered rather than trend chasing. If you want something that feels alive and not algorithmically assembled, go.
I have a hot tub. There is a lemon tree in the backyard. There are hummingbirds behaving like they have PR teams.
LA may finally make sense to me. Could I live here? Maybe. Would I become insufferable? Possibly.
Within hours I had an unwell but wealthy old man who led exclusively with his yacht trying to meet for “sunset drinks”. When someone opens with maritime assets, and follows with unsolicited 60+ d-pics, you decline drinks. Boundaries travel coast to coast. We are not boarding that vessel. There was also a large white standard poodle named Dynamo.
I am seeing plant varieties I have never seen in my life. Plants that look fake. Plants that look expensive. Plants that feel unionized.
LA is wild. LA is weird. LA is warm. There are so many tattooed, Vans-wearing, 40+ daddies roaming around that, combined with the Sudafed I am on, I may have a minor stroke purely from aesthetic overload. If the earth’s axis tilts this week, know it was congestion plus testosterone density. I am medically fine. I am spiritually overwhelmed.
Frieze LA emailed me to personally assure me that I will, in fact, have a tote bag. This is a first. This is growth. This is what happens when you survive enough red dots and rival sightings.
Is this VIP? Is this institutional recognition? Will there finally be free drinks for Daddy on their dime? We will investigate.
Also, I’ve been informed a local NPR person is reading this. A first. Daddy grew up listening to public radio at nine years old imagining a bigger world, a sharper vocabulary, and someday a tote bag that mattered.
And yes, I got my parents into public radio. Not the other way around.
Now I am on the ground. Congested. Activated. Slightly feral. And my head may explode.
Daddy is doing 3+ fairs in 3+ days. Spiritually I am activated and not entirely sure how this will go. Add to that Chloe Wise, Jeff Magid, Magnus, and Jerry Gogosian all within city limits, and the tectonic plates of the art world feel unstable. I am statistically bound to run into at least one of them. Make no mistake: documentation will occur.
Which brings me to this. If you are attempting 3+ fairs in 3+ days, you need discipline. Felix. Frieze LA. Post Fair. StartUp, and more are coming for you. Stay hydrated. Stay alert. Stay spiritually regulated.
Here are my tips. We are not wandering. We are operating.
Preview energy is cocaine for people who say they do not do cocaine.
The first hour of a VIP preview is pure performance art. Assistants are vibrating. Advisors are speed walking like they are late to testify before Congress. Collectors are pretending they have already placed three works and are simply browsing out of intellectual generosity. Red dots appear at supernatural speed. Some are real. Some are holds. Some are strategic lies. Do not hyperventilate. The fair is a casino with better lighting. Walk slowly. Watch who is actually pulling out a credit card and who is just touching walls thoughtfully.
Have a booth strategy or you will become someone else’s content.
Do not wander in circles like a lost intern. Decide what you care about before you step inside. Painting. Textiles. The one artist everyone keeps whispering about. Hit your priorities early while your brain still functions. Take photos of labels not just the art because by hour four you will not remember who made anything. Notice traffic. Notice which booths are empty and which feel like a nightclub at capacity. Popularity is not everything but it is information.
Escape the booth vortex.
There is always one gallerist who locks eyes with you and suddenly you are trapped in a 27 minute explanation about “material tension” while your phone is buzzing with three better opportunities. You are allowed to leave. You are allowed to fake urgency and out are allowed to walk out. ay you need to loop back. Say you promised someone you would meet them. Say literally anything. Your time is inventory. Do not donate it accidentally.
Track your martinis like they are line items in a budget.
Day drinking at a fair feels chic until you are trying to discuss pricing tiers while tasting mezcal from lunch. The VIP lounge is not casual. It is a quiet surveillance chamber where everyone is clocking who is sharp and who is unraveling. Alternate every cocktail with water. Eat before events. Sudafed plus champagne plus sun is not a personality. It is a potential press release.
Separate flirting from funding unless you enjoy chaos.
There is a very specific fair man who leads with his yacht, his foundation, and his divorce in the first eight minutes. He will call you fascinating and then ask what you are doing later. Extract information not fantasy. If someone cannot discuss art without referencing their marina, you are not in a serious negotiation. You are in an audition. Smile. Decline drinks. Protect your schedule.
Dress like you plan to survive.
Outdoor tents will roast you. Indoor booths will freeze you. Installations will require walking across gravel in footwear that regrets its life choices. Wear shoes that respect physics. Layer like you understand climate change. If your feet go your mood goes. If your mood goes your diplomacy goes. And diplomacy is everything when you are three fairs deep and mildly dehydrated.
Have a party plan before the party plans you.
You cannot attend everything. You will try. You will fail. Pick one anchor event per night that actually matters to your work or your curiosity. Everything else is bonus content. Arrive with intention. Leave before you dissolve into a sweaty networking ghost. The most powerful person in the room is the one who exits first and is talked about after.
Protect your psychic perimeter at all costs.
You will see exes. Rivals. People who subtweeted you in 2022. People who pretended not to recognize you at Basel and will now pretend you are best friends. Expect it. Prepare your face. Smile like you slept eight hours. Move like you have somewhere better to be. The fair is a stage and everyone is auditioning. You do not need to perform for anyone who does not cut a check or expand your mind.
Some sightings are accidents you witness, not accidents you join.
If Jeff, Chloe, Mags, or Jerry materialize, you will feel the gravitational pull. Resist entry. Stay out of the blast radius. Observe silently. Study the body language, the booth placement, the red dots in proximity. Watch who flinches, who leans in, who performs neutrality. This is field research. Capture mentally first. Post strategically later.
And if you see Daddy on the floor looking mildly congested but spiritually activated, come say hello. Send booth intel. Send price whispers. Send the red dot gossip before it calcifies into myth. If Chloe, Jeff, Magnus, or Jerry are within a ten foot radius of each other, I expect photographic evidence and timestamps. This is not passive consumption. This is participatory journalism. My DMs are open and I reward strong field reporting.
Also and perhaps most critically, send daddies. Tattooed. Vans wearing. Linen suited. Foundation adjacent but emotionally literate. If you encounter a 40 plus art fair species with good shoes, decent politics, and a functioning nervous system, flag him. Screenshot respectfully. Forward accordingly. Hell, I may even date him.
I love your writing
I love LA. So glad you are having a great time!