Adam Lindemann The Prince Of The One Percent By Jerry Saltz

In the Dec. 5, 2011, issue of the New York Observer, the art collector and columnist Adam Lindemann announced, Im not going to Art

Basel Miami Beach this year. Im through with it, basta. Its become . . . embarrassing . . . why should I be seen rubbing elbows

with all those phonies and scenesters . . . How many celebrities will I meet? How many mega-collectors will I greet? . . . None,

because Im not going.
It was certainly a departure for him, in terms of his usual business. Hes a collector of recent blue-chip artists like Jonathan

Meese and Anselm Reyle, and buys a lot on the international fair circuit. Indeed, last month at a large gallery dinner, after he told

me how much he despised art fairs, I asked whether he hadnt just been to London for the Frieze Art Fair and whether hed bought

anything. He said yes to both questions. I said, You hypocritical bastard. Then we munched on almond biscotti.
I know where Lindemann is coming from, and I agree that things have gotten gross. But so is he. This cocksure contempt for art fairs

and all who participate in them isnt coming from disgust with the system; its pure, puerile pomposity, the kind that takes pleasure

in exclusion, and its exactly the behavior that continues to make these events ever more repulsive. A few months ago in the

Observer, Lindemann asserted that he couldnt read the great Mark Stevens-Annalyn Swan biography of Willem de Kooning because hes a

student of the postmodern philosopher Jacques Derrida. The philosophy student instead spends his time on (this was even at Art Basel

Miami, a few years ago) throwing posh promotional events for Ikepod watches, a company he owns.
Theres little doubt that the art world still seems like its barreling off a massive binging spendthrift cliff. The art-buying

behavior of the super-rich and the merely wealthy, coupled with obscene prices paid for a more or less preapproved group of around 75

celebrity artists, seems less and less relevant -- and more odious. Yet art fairs, insane as they are, are still ways for artists and

art dealers to maybe make money; gallerists to create connections with one another; newer dealers to heighten their profiles; the

general public to see art outside a museum; and the art tribe to have a giant sleepover, stay up late together and (as I often say)

touch antennae. Instead, Lindemann wants them to be hermetically sealed and purely transactional, because keeping the rabble out

makes everything run smoother.
Heres his proposal for fixing these events. First, art fairs should be for collectors only; if youre not coming to buy art, get

the hell out. Translation: stay away, the 99.9999 percent of you without money. Ditto the 0.0001 percent who can afford to buy but

arent going to right now. Whos allowed in: a selection of dealers who work at the very top end of the price range, plus a few

hundred people with cash burning holes in their pockets, all of whom can stand around impressing each other. Next, there should be

gallery dinners only, preferably with a few artists and curators sprinkled in. Hey, artists, critics, collectors, museum people,

designers and anyone else: if you want to throw a party, sorry. (Unless you want to hawk Ikepod watches.