I went to the art festival known as Art Basel Miami Beach a few weeks ago.

I suppose to explain about the festival I would have to open my soul.  This is because art can’t be explained.  To some people it is just junk and they look at it and feel nothing, save for the fact that they think it silly for thousands to fly half way across the planet to come gaze at such pieces.  For others, the rich, the supposed 1%, it is an asset—something to be collected.  For them it becomes part of a portfolio, right there with the stocks, bonds, gold, ocean front properties, corn futures and maybe even a rising country music star they spend their extra money on hoping in the long run to continue the trend of profit.  These conversations are a blast to eavesdrop on while walking around Art Basel, when interested buyers send their reps to speak with the artists at Art Basel on buying a piece, or perhaps a rep from the gallery representing the artist:  reps meeting reps to work out the exchange of currency for talents brave enough to be executed here on Planet Earth.  Perhaps we should be commending them all for taking action in the first place.

In reality though most (meaning probably more than half) the art being shown at Art Basel is already sold.  But that’s okay because real art is never really owned—it is more like a song that gets played at different weddings where every body has a different experience and meaning and interpretation.  For this you need to come to Art Basel alone.  There are simply thousands of pieces of art from all across the globe and if you try to be cool and hang out in a posse you will find it very hard to keep the spirit of ‘posse’ together as some may want to linger at works you find dull or repulsive, while others may want to breeze through the entire thing mall-walkers-style and you somehow sense that in the flashing of the works of art on your left, right, front and behind you are missing a great epiphany of life. 

If anything you will definitely feel some sort of emotion.  How deep it goes is up to you.  A certain percentage of those perusing the art are local South Florida people, some who mill around the festival and still have sand in their shoes.  I hear many speak of how “Oh I could easily do that!” when others just stand and gape in awe of the awkwardness of this event that has invaded their home turf the past decade.  Still others come in a deep respect for what honor they get to have by having such an event that brings forth such colorful souls from all across the land.

Of course being Miami Beach there are parties.  Lot of parties.  And being Miami Beach you will hear a lot of DJ/dubstep/house/trance music along with viewing the art.  Some of my favorite festivities are the free events happening at Wynwood in downtown Miami.  Yes, there are private parties going on in private tents all down the beaches of Miami Beach during Art Basel that allow you to mingle with those who are supposed to “know” maybe more than others, at least that is what the pretense tries to show, but the real heart and soul doesn’t make a ticket into Basel but really is tucked in on a dark wall of a warehouse in Wynwood, hidden yet seen at the same time.  Genius.

It is here that Art Basel weekend almost always falls on “2nd Saturdays” and the people of Miami (and those in town for Basel bored with Miami Beach) come to walk asses-to-elbows on the streets, weaving in and out of the buildings and taking in as much art as one can handle.  You can eat street food and drink beer on the streets and gawk.  Gawking is allowed. 

I personally love how instead of drinking champagne and eating sushi like when seeing the art at Art Basel I am instead munching on a chocolate brownie I bought to support some fund for somebody hungry (I’m taking massive calories for the team) and I am buying unique pieces of jewelry off somebody on the side of the street while another dude plays with fire behind their back, while dub step is spilling out of a VW van painted with nude women.  Though I have no sculpture or painting on the wall, and I am not an investor investing in something for my portfolio I still am part of This Too.  The art is only one small part of the expression we are putting forth on our faces as we walk down the streets passing each other with our collective experiences of life.

What is gained from all this?  Are we More?  Or Less? Or just meh–a day at the office?  A “vacay”.  It still seems all so confusing.  Then I realize the problem:  that I am trying to think this.  And explain this because this a blog and Things Are To Be On Display and Analyzed.  Which goes against the spirit of such an event and such an entity.

Sorry I brought it up.