The Big Frieze

Well, it's October and the visual arts have customarily hit London with all the subtlety of an American of a certain age visiting a restaurant. Amid the gaucheness, intemperate language & noise of the various fairs, auctions, museum and commercial shows, it's the Frieze Art Fair that still reigns supreme after five years of operation. In spite of falling stock markets and the credit crunch, it is thriving as the most influential fair in terms of cultural and monetary prestige. While the commission of Richard Prince's hand-built gleaming yellow Dodge Charger provided uncomplicated pleasure, this year neon was obviously where it was at. From Tracey Emin's sold out 'hand-written' sculptures to Pierre Huyghe's more wittily astute piece of 'I Do Not Own 4' 33'. The carbon footprint for these artists must be more than a little dizzying. Perhaps Gianni Motti's yoga-practising policeman could have offered them stress relief. However, it was the Chapman Brothers who again provided the headline-grabbing wheeze, this time by providing 'free' art for attendees - defacing portraits of the Queen on whatever value sterling notes were presented to them, in a variety of typically intricate & horrific ways. Of course, they only actually did this on the preview day for the great and the good, the hip, the happening and the hedge-fund manager. Although self-proclaimed practitioners of 'bad art for bad people', Jake and Dinos undoubtedly know where their bread is buttered. Far more democratic and running for all five days of the Fair was Rob Pruitt's Flea-Market exhibited by Gavin Brown's Enterprise. Here a collective of artists organised by Pruitt (including Elizabeth Peyton and Peter Doig amongst others) showed all manner of found & fabricated ephemera from caustically defaced newspapers and celebrity magazines, vintage clothes, drawings, chocolate brownies, woollen sculpture, badges, TV remote controls, and even haircuts, or polaroids taken posed with Sam Taylor-Wood. The wittiest and waspish of these offerings were Jonathan Horowitz's 70s kitsch figurines declaring variously, 'Jihadists are People too', 'Junkies are People too', or more challengingly 'Guy Ritchie is a Person too'. In a year in which the dealers on the whole played corporately safe, Pruitt's daily-changing stand was constantly bustling and bright, bringing a much needed sense of joie de vivre.

As always it's not just the art that was fun to browse. The people were just as compelling, from an intense Dennis Hopper going undercover in tweed and flat-cap to a domestic Jarvis Cocker with his family. Two bright young things in regulation spiky haircuts, 80s jackets and Michael Caine glasses earnestly commented on how pretentious everyone was; while an ageing hipster crossed uncertainly between Jay Jopling and Joe Pasquale valiantly tried to control his more spontaneous designer-clothed offspring; and less established gallerists from Germany or Spain stood forlornly as the crowds resolutely ambled past towards the more recognisable names; at White Cube one client was even treated to his own impromptu show of various Gary Hume American Tan paintings. The air was heavy with aspiration, money & sometimes even art. And still it was the most fun you can have in a tent in Regent's Park.