When it Comes to Art, Don’t Hide the Madness

Wisdom by Atticus: “When it comes to art, don’t hide the madness”.

Which is why Miami Art Basel is a hybrid of art, culture, music and now even the art of party, a way to close out the year escaping from Siberian winters of the Northeast and melting into a cultural melting pot. Even though fewer brands than last season cashed into a historic buyers’ showcase, the hypnotic (and often raunchy) vibe of South Beach dissolved seamlessly into the vibe. Of the many parties resplendently seen on press and accolades, there was naturally more to inhale, with a matching outfit per occasion.

There was much to be said about the butterfly and caterpillar metaphor by Punkmetender for SLS South Beach. They’re cool, they eat a lot, take naps, and wake up as butterflies. Matching in pink and blue to my Print All Over Me Gender Fluid outfit, which also worked in the colorful  20th edition of SCOPE Miami Beach where the art of a swipeable iPhone home screen beckoned a commentary on mental health. The show had extraordinary cultural impact, what with 140 International Exhibitors from 25 countries and 60 cities, making it an interpretation of modern art that was diabolical and set many imaginations on fire with the sheer quantity of creativity. My trends picks were:

  • Neon feelings – with a penchant for neon, I found the indulgence of these addictive signs in poetic, romantic, melancholic and stunning real words to hit deep. Placed amidst art, or in isolation, or on faces, or juxtaposed in reality, they worked.
  • Frozen expressionssculptures made a comeback, and while few amidst 2D wall art, their expressions were mid focused, reflective of our racing times when people would cut us off. Or perhaps, the sculptural definition of ghosting.
  • Adolescence forever – possibly my favorite was to see childhood favorites, like Sylvester and Tweety, amidst adult conversations. It spoke to my Peter Pan meets Alice in Wonderland spirit, and perhaps to my generation of ‘never grow up’ which was less romanticised and more realizationary.

The alternative Untitled Art Fair, more spirited in its ways, had a lot more airiness and love in the air. A poignant collection literally hanging in the air was a standout, matching my Calvin Klein floral shirt and intentionally heavily distressed denim with Chanel.

While the Miranda Makaroff and Desigual collaboration for feminism at Arlo Nautilus was much touted for putting a vagina pop up front and center, I found the poetic neon signs to be more enigmatic, and melancholically true. A “Me” trapped in a cage, or one in the pool reading “You’ll miss me when I’m gone” were poignant reflections.

Come nightfall, the rather unsettling and raw collection for one of my favorite feline charities Black Jaguar White Tiger was at the massive W South Beach, with the likes of pop girls in various stages of undress and coked up with designerwear and art. Feverishly cold in a Balmain tank and crotch friendly jeans, I found solace in a giant pop up of Pinocchio, one of my scariest childhood memories, which dipped me in a stupor that transcended into a Hamptons Surf Lodge pop up across the tavern.

The farewell rosé brunch focused less on the art, but more on celebrating a national drink of choice for GenZ and millennials, the peachy pink rosé wine. An all white party, mimicking what summers in the Hamptons were made of, it was christened with many scene stealers from the East Coast, familiar faces glinting behind secretive sunglasses. My Dior and jewelry glinted in indifference, but my mind was soaked with inspiration.

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