I’m not the first to wonder what Jean-Michel Basquiat would have thought about us all looking, deciphering, dissecting the works of his 20s had he survived the 1980s. He did live an interesting juxtaposition, at times saying, “I'm not a real person. I'm a legend." His rejection wasn’t so much to fame, but the managed, almost decorative nature of fame. He didn’t want to be a mascot for a gallery or a moment in time. But what he did show was that, reluctantly and really without consent or the ability to stop it, the art world can put you on the highest speed treadmill even when you just went to the gym to soak in the sauna, if you know what I mean?
The works in Figures, Signs, Symbols, on view at the Pérez Art Museum Miami and the largest showing of Basquiat’s work in Florida, ever, all come from Kenneth C. Griffin Collection and almost give off a bit of a dichotomy. Griffin the ever-large donor to the Republican party though a critic of Trump’s second term, also gives what I would refer to as a “shit-ton” of money to the arts. These works that he owns of Basquait’s aren’t just some forgotten B-sides of the last days of the studio, but a stunning collection of some of the greatest works the painter ever did. From the NY Times: “Griffin, founder and chief executive of the $68 billion Citadel hedge fund, has lent the nine canvases and a sculpture to PAMM for Basquiat: Figures, Signs, Symbols… All 10 works were purchased by Griffin just over the last few years for a sum he confirmed as approximately $500 million.”
A lot was going on in my head as I was looking at the work, and if I repeat myself here, let me be clear: there are so many juxtapositions and dichotomies that exist in the short life of Jean-Michel that they have become the necessary fuel for us all to re engage with the works over and over. They are pivotal for what they represent of the 1980s and the decade’s own obsession with excess. But to now see the works amongst the excess that is the 2020s, basically the 1980s on Barry Bonds-level steroids, I found this show stunning on multiple levels.
It has been said but Basquiat painted like a Jazz musician: It’s improvised within a great skillset. And seeing these works together sort of felt like a great Jazz album, bits and pieces seemingly familiar across all the works, some so dense they almost needed an afternoon to sit with or one so sparse it felt like a simple solo. And though I have seen many Basquiat’s before, the room felt fit for the larger works, spaced-well, enough where you could cross-reference from across the room.
So, yes, there are a lot of these shows, a lot of Basquiat discourse, a lot of news about Griffin and his purchases. I’m trying to avoid commenting too far about it all, trying to be fair to my experience at a museum seeing the work and not the conversation about how museum’s decided these kinds of shows (you know how museum’s decide to run these shows, you don’t need me for that) or that Basquiat’s legacy has been removed so far from the kid who loved comics and did some situationist-style graffiti before anyone really cared. He is a legend, and now, he almost represents more about culture’s vultures than the work itself. I think I’m learning to like the work again, and trying my best to separate the man from the machine. —Evan Pricco
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