Where’s Wei Wei?

In a world of fancy it was way up there. The worlds of art, fame, glamour and vast wealth had turned up to pay their respects to this year’s Serpentine Gallery Pavilion, created by Al Wei wei, Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron. It was a big doo and never before had I seen quite such a glitzy and more visually interesting collection of glammed up people.

It did strike me as strange that art, which is supposed to be about depth and meaning attracts such a seemingly artificial and vacuous crowd. All eyes were on everyone else rather than the quite spectacular construction they were supposedly here to view.
Al Wei Wei is just “so hot right now” he had attracted the cream of the cream of all the highest eshcalons of life.

What was I doing there? I have a very cool girlfriend who has a very cool job and takes me to all the best doos that I have absolutely no business being at. I’m an official plus one and proud of it. Maybe one day I will actually be invited to a posh event myself but I’m not holding my breath and I kind of like being a plus 1..it feels like your gatecrashing somewhere you shouldn’t be and that’s quite appealing. And if ever there was a doo to go to, it was this one. …No. 1, Shi Shi Street, Swanksville U.K

I have always found art openings weird as they are always the least contusive environment to absorbing and appreciating the work on display. Too many people, too much noise. But it was a top notch party, so who cares right? I mean, if one of the artists can’t even be bothered to show up, does it really deserve our attention?

I am clearly making light of an artist’s epic struggle against an oppressive regime who are trying to suppress his work and freedom as much as is humanely possible and even though they have  succeeded in the latter they are constantly being trounced on the former with this current collaboration being done entirely on skype. However, even if he could have made it to his own opening he might have seemed strangely incongruous amidst the glamorous crowd that had gathered supposedly in his honour, although did momentarily freak out when I almost thought I clocked him!

As everyone crooked their necks trying to catch glimpses of the most flamboyant or fame drenched individuals I did occasionally point and exclaim..No way way! Its Al Wei Wei!” and thus providing endless amounts of hilarity. I did also try to get the glitzy guests to raise their glasses to toast the absentee creator, which, although obliged, was met with a strange reticence, as if it was inappropriate to mention him or maybe they had just forgot what the fuck they were doing there. Based on the surrounding chat it did seem highly possibly that they didn’t even know why they were there in the first place.

The pavillion construction itself is stunning. From the inside, its like being inside a super cool Bond villain’s lair. The cork feels soft and smells delectable and the reflective water roof is pure brilliance. The overall effect is arresting but had anyone noticed? There was a very brief splash of rain and everyone ran into the pavillion for cover but rather than use the moment to have a closer look at the stunning architecture they used the opportunity to have a closer gawp at those surrounding them, ourselves included.

Were we here to view art or to view the guests? Everyone I spoke to seemed to comment on how fantastically upmarket everyone was but like the way people discuss traffic, failed to include themselves as being part of it. As we were all squinting trying to recognise the A listers surrounding us, it was highly possible, however unlikely, that other guests were doing exactly the same to us. We had made it to the top of the social strata and were rubbing shoulders with the beautiful people..well..sort of…

These people were not my world but they were absolutely brilliant to look at and it was quite apparent from the outfits on offer, that was what they wanted you to do and everyone was happy to oblige. They had clearly spent hours, possibly days getting ready and it would have been an insult to their hard efforts not to gawp at least a little bit. There was this strange feeling you were in a scene from a film and each person had been cast to create the ultimate posh art crowd.

Expensive cloth hung loosely on thin frames. Spiked heels you could kill with. Perfecto hairdos. Surgery enhanced cleavages. The women were clearly in competition for attention. But if you add up all the size zeros..do you still get zero? Its like the sound of one hand clapping…discuss.

The female guests did seem to be trying to win an unwinnable war, flaunting their wares whist hiding their insecurities. The male guests by contrast all seemed to delighted with themselves and appeared utterly convinced of their own superiority in comparison to those surrounding them.

And once again, all focus drifted away from the art as our attention was held by the other attendees. I don’t think I have ever seen a group of people who were so clearly dripping in cash. But this is what the art world is attracting. It has become such a major commodity it is now firmly entrenched in the arena of the stupidly wealthy who buy art because they know it will be a good investment but also because they are the only ones who can afford it.

The problem was it was just too good a party in too great a location and on too beautiful an evening.  The event itself had overshadowed what it was actually an event for. Whoever was behind this had clearly decided they were going to go all out and put on a proper shindig. Everything was high end, top of the range..the greatest money could buy..but who was paying? And why commemorate art with such lavishness? Was it not contradictory to the intended meaning?

The consumables. for example were off the chart. I’m no foodie but the canapés were jaw-droppingly delicious…each one was indeed like a party in my mouth and all my tastebuds were invited. It was without a doubt the best tasting food I had ever had. And then there were the raspberry cocktails and the rhubarb vodka and the night got warmer and warmer and the reflection in the water got sharper and sharper and everyone got a little giddy and then Azeylia Banks came on dressed like a butterfly and then it really all kicked off.

Azeylia Banks is so hot right now (almost as hot as Al Wei Wei..and Hansel) and there she was in front of us…rockin out to a shi-shi art crowd who possibly had no clue who she was. But I did. I danced my socks off and watched as she transferred people’s marching powder from their lips firmly into their feet. I had a great bop to her  set but I was really waiting for just one track..212..the greatest kick ass dance tune in a long, looong time. And it didn’t disappoint. As I bounced up and down to one of my favourite songs in the balmy summer’s night surrounded by such an incredible location I made a mental note to store this moment…its what Al would have wanted.

I had barely got over the excitement of Banks playing when 2manydjs hit the decks and transformed this, uptil then, fairly sedate doo into a full blown party. Their set seemed to coincide perfectly with most of the crowd’s inebriation. They had served up enough free flowing booze for the guests to drown themselves in and there was suddenly a packed dance floor and people were shaking their thing with an instant loss of interest in their previously meticulously maintained poise and appearance.

Many of the female guests who only hours ago had commanded such grace and glamour were now dragging their outlandishly expensive frocks around with carefree abandon, throwing themselves around as if they were in the mosh pit.

The remaining crowd were quite clearly all smashed but alcohol giveth but it also taketh away. It instills a greater confidence in one’s skill set whilst simultaneously diminishing said skills. Needless to say it got a bit messy.

A couple of overly-enthusiastic blonds clambered up and managed to get on top of the pavilion itself and started splashing around as if they were toddlers in a paddling pool. The drunk crowd cheered and egged them on. The security eventually got them down..its what Al would have wanted.

Soon it was all over but what a blast it had been. It was definitely the swankiest shi shi doo I had ever been to but if you took a moment to think about the dosh that had been spent on this one little shindig you would have choked on your potted calamari. The only double dip this lot would be experiencing would be if someone thrust their asparagus tip back into the garlic mayonaise!

It also seemed sad that the occasion had been lost in the occasion. It was probably best that Al hadn’t been able to make it. I don’t know him per say but it didn’t really look like his sort of thing. This is after all a man who grew up in a cave…a far cry from the luxury abodes the crowd he had attracted were returning to.

What’s the point of art? To try and bring sense and meaning to the insanity and triviality of our lives..and whilst I had enjoyed myself no end I did leave feeling that the paradoxes of the night’s proceedings made life feel both more trivial and more insane…now if I could taste just one more of the watermelon sushi everything would make sense…