Great Article Mentioning Our Company

Art World Powers Rolled Deep at Peter Brant's Sumptuous Fête for "Bad Painter" Josh Smith

Guests at the Brant Foundation Art Study Center's opening of Josh Smith's "The American Dream"

By Andrew M. Goldstein for ARTINFO

GREENWICH, Conn.— In 1776, around this season in fact, the United States broke away from the monarchical trappings of the British Empire and its vestigial feudal systems of landed gentry and so on. Sometimes, however, this can be easy to forget, as it was at the palatial grounds of Peter Brant's Greenwich, Connecticut, compound over the weekend, where a sprawling, manicured polo ground ("the game of kings") stretched out under the azure sky, and a tent flying pennants from its poles sheltered a swarm of art-world royalty, some of whom lounged on white pasha's pillows that were spread on the grass, eating lavish canapés. (Those who needed to relieve themselves of the flowing champagne, meanwhile, had access to wood-paneled porta potties furnished by the deluxe Royal Flush corporation.) Of course, the reason to be there — aside from the chance to glimpse what, for the art journalists present, must be a preview of where good hacks go when they die — was to see the latest exhibition at the Brant Foundation Art Study Center, which this year is presenting an extraordinary survey of Josh Smith's paintings.

Occupying two floors of the impeccably lit, airy space, the show, called "The American Dream," is composed of a flood of paintings by the prolific artist, who has become famous for often abstract works bearing his name in bold, outsize lettering — his "signature style," as the pun goes — as well as for working at a churning pace, knocking out pieces to stack in piles and then display in packed groups. Here all of these tendencies are on view, in work rendered on a variety of surfaces (cardboard, linen, paper) with a variety of techniques (laser printing, brush strokes, and combinations thereof), but the real pleasure and surprise can be found in his figurative works.

One towering, double-height room is dominated by an enormous painting of a cartoonish dinosaur roaring against the backdrop of an erupting volcano — a boy's dream poster writ extremely large, and perhaps a nod to Paul Thek's dinosaur reliquaries. Other tall walls in the room evidence a similarly scientific iconography of fish, leaves, and snakes, creating a strange, alluring duet between between the concerns of advanced painting and the backward-looking discipline of natural history. Then, elsewhere, there is a series of skeleton paintings that read like wet kisses to Munch and the German Expressionism of Nolde and Kirchner. The color sense throughout the show evokes Matisse, but the lush brush marks are pure "bad painting." The show, over all, was one of exceptionally good "bad painting," and generous artistic overabundance.

The party shared that latter quality. Lambs were spitted over a fire on the side of the field as plates of food were delivered to full tables that were quickly emptied by the well-heeled guests. Everyone seemed rich. ("It was too much money for me," one equally well-heeled guest said to her companion as she walked out of the tent.) Naomi Campbell was there, and so was Christopher Walken — a neighbor — but the real power lay in the assorted art cabals that came together for Brant's picnic, like blue-blooded houses assembling for a medieval fair, trying to get in good with the wealthy duke (whose White Birch paper company, which has seen better days, actually owns the property).

In that spirit, Phillips de Pury was represented by Simon and Michela de Pury (together with their new baby), CEO Bernd Runge (a former East German patriot who, ever secretive, wasn't identified in the party photos), and Mercury Group co-owner Leonid Friedland, who bought out the auction house in 2008. The Russian luxury magnate was joined by such countrymen as oligarch Vladislav Doronin (Naomi Campbell's boyfriend) and heiress-cum-art-patron Maria Baibakova.

As for the dealer camp, Larry Gagosian came with his plus-one Shala Monroque and his London gallery director, Victoria Gelfand. Gavin Brown, whose artist Urs Fischer memorably filled Brant's last show, rolled particularly deep, coming with girlfriend Hope Atherton and his young children as well as artists Fischer, Jonathan Horowitz, Rob Pruitt, Peter Doig, and new recruit Joe Bradley. Andrea Rosen appeared to come alone, but that didn't stop whispers that her artist, David Altmejd, will be the next artist to get the Greenwich space. Curators too were in full effect, with Francesco Bonami, Massimiliano Gioni, Klaus Biesenbach, Cecilia Alemani, Casey Fremont, and Stacy Engman all on hand.

But perhaps the most impressive, and to some unlikely, retinue was that of Julian Schnabel.The Picassian artist, who helped conceive Brant's exhibition space, was joined by his girlfriend, Rula Jebreal; her daughter, Miral; his son, Vito; his daughter, Lola; and his first wife, Jacqueline. (This unconventional family spirit may have been welcomed by this particular host, who has recently gone through a roller-coaster of marital acrimony and reconciliation.) Finally, as usual, the coolest guests were Richard Phillips and Josephine Meckseeper, the husband and wife artists who sported black leather jackets and shades in Greenwich, then doffed them a few hours later to attend David Salle's celebratory dinner for his new Mary Boone show, even as most party-hoppers had to stop home and change.