London galerys. Swinging.

Added: Westen Simcox - Date: 06.01.2022 00:26 - Views: 19173 - Clicks: 7210

Groovy Bob: The scandalous art dealer who shook up Swinging London. There is always champagne at these things, but this art opening is an actual party. Purple light bounces off the white walls in the massive foyer of London's Royal Academy; punk music falls down the stairs and Kenneth Anger's homo-erotic biker short Scorpio Rising is playing on a TV screen. There are the requisite grey ladies in fur and chapeaux, as well as twenty-somethings in backpacks huddled in groups, downing their drinks before walking into Pace London's booze-free exhibition space for the opening of A Strong, Sweet Smell of Incense: A Portrait of Robert Fraser.

While his name may ring few bells outside of the seasoned London art community, eminent gallerist Robert Fraser, who ran a gallery in London during the Sixties and again in the Eighties, was a seminal part of the Swinging Sixties scene. His notoriety hinged on scandal, parties and friendships with the most famous rock stars of the era, as well as an undeniable talent for spotting art's Next Big Thing. This is the eminent dealer who sold art to Paul McCartney, and hosted John Lennon and Yoko Ono's first t exhibition ; the Savile Row-clad Etonian whose Mayfair galleries attracted the likes of Marlon Brando, Marianne Faithfull and William Burroughs in the 60s and 80s; the silver-tongued heroin addict who introduced Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat to Britain, and was arrested -- and, in his case, imprisoned -- for drug possession with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards during the Redlands Bust.

Curated by the artist Brian Clarke , A Strong, Sweet Smell of Incense -- a winking reference to the police report describing the bust -- aims to blend the rebel, the art connoisseur and the hedonist to present a rounded image of an unsung star of the 60s. Who was Groovy Bob? But the anecdote isn't enough to convey the kind of energy that he had, this kind of magnetic energy that drew you to him -- or repelled you depending on your own energy," says Clarke, arguably the world's most well known stained glass artist.

I first met Clarke three weeks before the opening at his spacious cottage-cum-mansion in London's tony Notting Hill neighborhood. A literal portrait of Fraser painted by Basquiat hangs prominently in the living room, surrounded by works by Warhol, Francis Bacon and others. Clarke, who was a close friend of Fraser's and was the first artist exhibited at his 80s gallery, is still finalizing the exhibition selection, but his energy is easy, if a little manic.

She's on hand to add her own anecdotes to the ocean. The idea for the portrait came from Pace London's managing director Mollie Dent-Brocklehurst a year ago, when Clarke told her he'd been entrusted with Fraser's archive. Fraser died of AIDS-related illness in at the age of Art dealer Robert Fraser was one of Swinging London's most influential personalities. To hear Clarke speak about Fraser is to have assumptions alternately challenged, rebuked and confirmed. He makes no excuses and offers no explanations for Fraser's "more hedonistic side," but emphasizes his generally quiet demeanor and modesty.

This is reflected in the exhibition itself, which is set up like an archive. Works from the luminaries Fraser knew, showed or admired are on the walls, while personal effects -- a thank-you note from Ed Ruscha , a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster, arrest warrants, an opium pipe with the gold rim worn to silver -- are kept behind glass cases. In one corner, there's a recreation of his desk. Take a few steps, and you're looking at the drum from The Beatles' Sgt.

Other elements reflect their personal relationship. A Gerhard Richter that recalls a t trip to Berlin to see his works in person. There was more to Fraser, it seems, than the people he associated with. When you were with Robert, you felt there was nowhere really much better to be. You knew that you would not have more fun anywhere else, that's for sure. He liked people or he hated them. He was often reluctant to discuss his connections and friendships, even with those close to him. He didn't realize the two were friends until Capote came over to their table a few nights later to hug Fraser.

Similarly, Vyner remembers Fraser fawning over Prick up Your Ears , John Lahr's biography of playwright Joe Orton, without once mentioning that he was an early backer of Orton's productions. She would discover this while researching Groovy Bob. A brief light that burned bright. Back to Pace. A party-goer and I get to chatting about the exhibition, the party, and Fraser. She enjoyed the party, but didn't -- doesn't -- know much about Fraser the man. Around pm, security guards are shepherding the reluctant crowd out of the building, into the cold night.

On the steps, a particularly drunk kid tries and fails to goad someone into a fight, while the less inclined start hailing cabs and mapping how to move the night into Soho. I recall something Clarke told me a few weeks prior, an effort to summarize the spirit of Fraser's galleries and its infamous parties, studded with stars and doused in glamor and excitement. You knew that you would not have more fun anywhere else, that's for sure, and you would not be more stimulated," he'd said with a kind of wistfulness.

London galerys. Swinging.

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