4 to Collect at Paris Internationale

Elizabeth Jaeger, sculpture

It is Paris art week. Inaugurated 44 years ago, FIAC is the classic afternoon tea affair whilst, in its third edition, Paris Internationale is the bloody mary on the grunge rooftop of a multi-storey car park. Paris Internationale art fair brings together a young generation of 55 galleries and 8 project spaces from 17 countries. With a sense for the surreal and body awareness, these are my highlights. 

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How to Buy Art Online in 4 steps

Raphael Fodde, Untitled, 2010

Next week I will be attending Art Basel. To compensate for the splendor-at-a-prize that is to come, this week I cover art that is accessible to all budgets. I am not a fan of labelling art as affordable because price should not be the main selling point. More often than not, what is presented as affordable is glorified-IKEA art, lacking interest and ending as pure décor bound to come out of fashion. However, there is a lot happening online that is worth having a look at because it is fun, innovative, sensitive, aesthetically mindful and it is a click away. I have hand-picked works which range from under £100 and up to £8,000. What is not to like?

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The Female Gaze and What Could Have Been of Photo London 2017

Ellen von Unwerth, From Original Sin, 1998-9

Last week’s Photo London left a slight bittersweet taste for me. The fair brings together a great selection of galleries and it is a must-see for anyone interested in photography. However, there was an overwhelming presence of fashion photography and female portraiture. At worse banal and celebrity-driven, at best a lush sensuous rich experience.

After the Kate Moss overdose, Helmut Newton’s ubiquitous iconic images of determined women, Horst P. Horst’s timeless classics, Irving Penn’s soft touch, Norman Parkinson’s old-world glamour, Miles Aldridge’s dolls… the penny dropped heavy. With the exception of very few works dotted around by Lillian Bassman, Sarah Moon and Ellen von Unwerth, a wander around the fair felt like I had been transported to another time, ignoring the contemporary appetite for female voices. The male gaze was starting to give away a rancid whiff.

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