Welcome to Wet Paint in the Wild, an extension of Annie Armstrong’s gossip column wherein she gives art-world insiders a disposable camera so they can give us a peek into their corner of the madcap industry.
When I think of Dan Oglander, I think of Amy Poehler in Mean Girls: he’s not a regular art advisor, he’s a cool art advisor.
Whether he’s cheffing it up with the Wise sisters, brokering deals at fairs, or partying into the wee hours, whenever I see him, he’s always sporting a suave suit and signature fox-in-the-henhouse grin on his face.
Who better to take us through New York’s week of nonstop fairs, dinners, and parties? I handed Dan a camera and this is what he came up with…
I started out the week in bed with a chest cold answering emails with my trusty assistant, Beverly.
Finally, by Wednesday, I was well enough to assume the position at my command center (dining table) and get to work perusing gallery previews, making calls, and taking the necessary time to cook and nap.
My big ol’ bear paws captured this moment of culinary genius: chicken salad. As most doctors will tell you, mayonnaise is an essential ingredient for curing a chest cold.
After a fitful night’s rest, I proceeded bright and early to NADA, where my incredibly talented brother, Eric Oglander, was exhibiting for the first time. Gideon Jacobs, who has a stupendous head of hair, was also in tow.
Then it was off to TEFAF, where my gigantic beef mitts encountered none other than Wet Paint’s OG writer, Nate Freeman, slurping down a briny oyster shucked right there on the trade floor. The Dutch really know how to put on an art fair.
After TEFAF, there was a Clearing dinner, where it appears Dan Teran emerged from the metaverse to steal Marcus Jahmal’s Pokemon-styled dim sum treat. Your trusted documentarian then retired to sweet slumber, as tomorrow was another busy day.
The following morning, before setting off to the auction houses, I employed Beverly’s services to convince a client to accept an outstanding offer. It worked. Beverly will be eating chicken tonight.
I saw a cool stack of canines outside Christies.
I visited my alma mater, Phillips, where I first secured a job as an art handler way back in 2010. Still feels strange to walk in here wearing a suit.
Independent Art Fair was next, but no photos were taken. I moved briskly through the pouring rain to Helena Anrather’s new spot on the Bowery to see the Julia Wachtel show and catch Megan Yuan sporting a cheeky hat.
Saturday was a catch-up work day during the daylight hours. However, that evening, there was an impromptu birthday party for Lomex gallery’s incomparable owner, Alex Schulan, at the strangest, most wonderful place in Battery Park that felt like Mykonos in 2004, a place I have never visited and will never visit. Anyways, the perfect person and indomitable artist Monsieur Zohore was there along with man-about-town and actual mensch Mitch Ryan. Also featured here is a man good at standing and not making faces.: me.
We then moved en masse to the Mendes Wood party, where I run into bizzaro Marcus Jahmal and my extraordinary assistant Rachel June Park. I believe there was some dancing.
The following afternoon, I met with Nicelle Beauchene and Mills Moran for lunch at Frenchette. As we filled our gaping maws with pate de foie and brouillade, we remembered it was Derby Day! With spirits high and bellies full, we sauntered to Walker’s, and after much debate, math and research, we placed our bets… and promptly lost.
And that was just as well. Andrew Kuo, Joe Cole, and Nate Freeman came by to share in the horsie revelry, and all privation was forgotten. The world became a blurry and happy place.
Then, dear reader, I spirited myself to Pho Grand all by my lonesome where I recharged over a “Large #1” and poured over the auction catalogues for the coming week… .