Art Beat-The Gatecrashers

I am a bonafide art writer. And yet, not being visible on the Page 3 circuit of art openings can sometimes become a huge embarrassment. As it did recently when I landed at a fancy art opening at a seven­ star hotel accompanied by a male friend and was asked a few unpleasant questions.

“So you are a journalist?”

“Which publication do you write for?”

“How come I have not read any of your stories?”

Itching to tick off the over­perfumed gallery manager whose only job seemed to be to rebuke me with suspicious glances, I only managed to mumble some excuses before the hostess rescued me as “a friend.” “This is the first time I have asked my people to look at invites and media passes,” she explained, “I am tired of having gatecrashers at my art parties.” And that explained ­ the presence of bouncers at the entry, the usually inconspicuous gallery staff preening with self- importance and a crowd that seemed more closely monitored than guests at any other art outings, I had recently been to.

Arriving uninvited at parties in Delhi is nothing new. We feel it is our right to ‘come along’, ‘just drop in’ and ‘pass by’, rarely sparing a thought for any inconvenience it may cause to the host. It’s no revelation that in this city, everyone claims to know everyone, there’s a lot of air­kissing, strangers come as chaperones or friends of friends, business cards are exchanged, Facebook ids shared and no one thinks twice before helping themselves to hospitality not meant for them. But that gate-crashing  would warrant professional bouncers was indeed an eye opener. Over the years though, the diversity of  ‘gatecrashers’ that I have seen crowding such events has been staggering.  A few samples.

Mrs Moneybags from West Delhi

This is the overweight, rich businessman’s wife who has a membership to every hotel, every club and every ladies’ forum. She is never accompanied by her husband, who of course is busy making more money, but arrives at parties in a chauffeur driven SUV. She is mostly uninvited yet welcomed because she is there to buy. She pronounces Souza as Souja, distorts Krishen Khanna as Kishen and looks at every painting to decide which one matches  her latest drawing room veneer. “I had this lady walk into my gallery’s show asking for a painting that was in pink, only because she wanted it as a gift for her daughter who had just had a baby girl. I tried hard to convince her to buy a family portrait by Nayanaa Kanodia but all she wanted was pink! She had no clue about the art on display and she comes to each of my shows,” shares a gallery owner.

And they are tough negotiators as well. They have so much spare time left after their weekly visits to spas and kitty parties that they can visit a gallery five to 10 times to close a deal. The only upside: they pay in cash.

So tell your bouncer to let in Mrs So and So the next time he feels the urge to ask for an invite. You won’t regret it.

South Delhi fashionistas

You can love them or you can hate them, but you can’t ignore them. They are after all, the glistening eye candies of your parties. They revel in their Page 3 status, greet every media photographer on first name basis and hog more media space than the artist or the gallerist. They could range from aspiring models, out-of-work television starlets, little known fashion designers and sometimes self-proclaimed yoga experts.

They come with gym-­toned bodies and designer attire, head straight to the bar, stay back till as late as they can and enjoy the hospitality without an inkling of who is picking the tab. The more photogenic your party is, the bigger hit it is considered to be. For this giggling, air-kissing lot, the artist may not be more than a canvas on the wall. They may be here to party and to mingle and not with the artist fraternity, but with the entourage of friends they have arrived with.  “But we always allow such people entry because they add the glam quotient to our parties,” reveals a friend, “plus their names help to attract the media that covers parties for Page 3.”

This one is a win­-win situation then. The host gets her ‘successful’ art opening covered in the next day’s edition, the guests/gatecrashers ­ get their 15 minutes of fame.

Artists no one cares about

This is a tricky one. From nondescript art students to one­ show wonders, from “can you sponsor my next show” request-makers to “the artist is a friend” claimants, you will find hordes of these at art openings. And gallerists aver that they have to grin and bear lest they be seen as “art insensitive.” “It’s so annoying. I am inundated with catalogues, brochures, photographs and what have you from all sorts of people. All I do is smile vacantly and promise them I’ll get back,”  said a gallerist. Sounds ruthless? But only till you put yourself in the host’s shoes or, well, high heels.

On many occasions, you will find these wannabes introducing themselves to senior artists, taking their opinion on everything from their latest inspiration to how media ignores “serious art reviews in favour of frivolous party coverage.” Of course, they only have to spot a shutterbug when suddenly the senior artist they were talking to deferentially becomes their long time buddy. “It is at art parties that these young artists just walk up to me and strike up a conversation as if they have known me for years. They expect to be invited over, shown my studio, and sometimes, even offer to accompany me to another art show,” says a senior artist whose ailing health is an excuse for many to swarm around him solicitously.

Me too journalists

This is one tribe that can not only ruin your mood but also your party. They are the pretentious ones who scan  art listings in the papers on a daily basis. Their only goal is to ensure at least a couple of drinks and free dinner before they get home. They need no invites, nor are asked for one. “I am from the media” is enough to give them access to any art do. They walk in with a swagger unapologetically,  scatter out-of-business cards and make entries in the visitor’s books under names like Taaza Samachar, India Opens, Rang Tarang and some even more creative titles. Next they somberly ask for a catalogue and for the artist, almost as if they would be writing an on­-the­-spot report, gaze intelligently at the artworks and finally, having made enough display of their honourable intentions, make themselves comfortable in a corner where they can be least noticed.

“This is the toughest lot to control,” the friend who now has security during art openings says, “once we denied entry to some half-drunk person claiming to be a journalist, and he flew off the handle, created a scene and threatened to call some unknown editor. Of course, we didn’t budge but it left a bad taste in the mouth.”

So the moral of the story? Gate­crashing is in and so are gatecrashers. And it is upto you to bear or bar them.