ABOUT LAST WEEK: Art Basel Miami Beach

Basel fatigue didn’t set in for me, miraculously, until Saturday night. By then, I’d browsed, schmoozed, dined and toasted more times than I care to remember over the course of five days, but my growing ennui was nothing compared to that of the cab driver I encountered on my way to a last night of gallery-hopping and party-going. The grizzled-looking hack picked me up at my hotel, blasting static-y classical music from his radio, and sped off to the Wynwood arts district.
 

As the traffic slowed and the galleries came into view, the driver shouted over some Mozart: “Pardon me saying so, but I could make art that’s better than most of this crap.” He eventually relented, naming some artist he’d discovered who I just had to check out. Oh great, I thought, now even my cab driver is making recommendations. I did just fine on my own, I think, taking in the paintings and parties, the controversies and chaos. Here’s my account of last week in Miami during the biggest art party on the planet.

MONDAY (November 30)
OK, so it’d be a couple days before the start of the official Art Basel Miami Beach—the one at the convention center that I frequently describe to the uninitiated as like a contemporary version of  the Louvre where everything is for sale. But that didn’t stop locals and early-arriving out-of-towners from getting a jump. Audi provided the venue—a gargantuan temporary pavilion erected on the beach at a cost most likely approaching the amount of the GM bailout (in actuality, Audi spent about $20 million on the launch, including renting out the entire 1,000-plus-room Fontainebleau Hotel for visiting guests for two nights. Wow). I showed up fashionably late and entered a theater-like space already filled with about 800 people watching a stage whose sole occupant was Lucy Liu ?!). In dramatic tones, the graceful actress described Audi’s revamped wündercar, the A8,  before introducing lighting designer Tom Dixon and a bevy of Audi execs. Eventually, the stately cars were wheeled onstage, everybody applauded, and we were whisked backstage for drinking and merriment. As I exited the spaceship-like pavilion with some friends in search of a late dinner, I surmised that if this was foreshadowing, the predictions of a raucous, free-spending Basel would come true and then some.

TUESDAY (December 1)
Design Miami/ was actually a partner in the Audi A8 launch, and apparently somebody there, maybe co-founder Ambra Medda, is fond of temporary tents (she also has a penchant for unorthodox punctuation). The one that housed the five-year-old DM/ is by NYC architecture and design firm Aranda/Lasch, which designed a different tent last year. Anyway, this one was nice, if a bit dark, and housed an impressive collection of firms and furniture. At the invite-only vernissage, the mood was festive, and it looked like Basel Week was on track to prove to Obama, Fox News and the masses that the recession was officially over. Champagne, over-the-top pieces by Designer of the Year Maarten Baas, a glass-encased machine gun by Ted Noten and laser-guitars played by the somehow-still-around band OK GO (they of the choreographed treadmill dance number that was a YouTube hit some time in the digitally distant past). If that doesn’t spell recovery, what does?
 

From DM/ I made a jaunt to my pal Max Pierre’s sprawling boutique event space AE District for an opening of works by Peter Tunney, who was still affixing tags to the wall when I arrived at the appointed start time. His Tunney Money wood pieces were a highlight, and another sign that this financial motif was playing out quite well.
 

Then it was back to reality: I stopped in for canapés and conversation at Galerie Perrotin in Wynwood, where the Parisian dealer was holding court in the architecturally breathtaking building that he closed after last year’s Basel. The group show was highlighted by the structural paintings of Bernard Frize, who mingled amiably with a very fashionable crowd, including the artist duo Kolkoz, whose backwards Welcome neon sign greeted visitors to the dinner. I couldn’t help but lament that this was a temporary tent of sorts as well, in what used to be the crown jewel of Miami’s then-burgeoning arts district. Owner Emmanuel Perrotin will likely retreat to Paris and shutter the building until next year.