Daniel Beltrá’s Oil Spill #9: Oil-free paths from boats attempting to clean up the crude spill off the coast of Louisiana, from the series Spill.
LONDON - As I build up a list of Frieze events, which I simply couldn’t get to because I had to be elsewhere, I realize that I missed Benjamin and Raphael Khalili’s Shizaru opening last week! Only because it was the same timing as Sotheby’s own Frieze reception, followed by the Prix Pictet event at the Saatchi Gallery. After a whirlwind tour of our upcoming Contemporary Art sale with friends who had battled traffic to catch the view at Bond St, I rushed southwards to King’s Road to attend what has now become the defining landmark of photography awards.
The brainchild of Pictet’s Stephen Barber, the Prize is now in its fourth year, inspiring and attracting some phenomenal talent from around the world. I was privileged to have been involved from the inception and witnessed its growth in the capable hands of Candlestar – steered by Stephen. Reflecting the same wisdom and solid approach as the company which launched it, the mission of the Prix Pictet is to use the power of photography to raise public awareness to the environmental and social changes of our era.
Mohamed Bourouissa’s La Fenêtre, 2005, from the series Périphérique.
This edition’s theme has been Power – a quality strongly dominating every work in the current exhibition (see it before Oct 28!). Spaniard Daniel Beltrá’s work captivated me, contrasting as it did the power boardrooms of Joel Sternfeld and Hassink. But of course Mohammed Bourouissa (of Algeria) speaks very much to the moment with his image of tension just before violence breaks out. I’ve vowed to return and see the exhibition again as the throbbing full house challenged my eye-view, especially Luc Delahaye’s winning entry!
Winner of the Prix Pictet, Luc Delahaye’s Les Pillards.
I really wanted to attend the White Cube Dinner, and more than anything to go to the party of all parties at the Maleki house for the Tate International Council members, but my Manolo Blahniks (or so I like to call them) simply gave out. I needed to rest up, my feet, before I hit the Deutsche Bank VIP Breakfast at Frieze bright and early the next morning.