Every week, Artnet News brings you Wet Paint, a gossip column from original scoops. If you have any advice, email Annie Armstrong at [email protected].
Over the past three days, I’ve spent about 16 hours lingering THE Three Kings. Remember, that’s two full working days by American standards, and believe me when I say I treated this time as such. I’d like to paint a picture of what those hours were like from the perspective of a ‘Belgian virgin’, as many so charmingly described me this week.
The crowd: Of course, there are the rockstars of the art market, like Adam Lindeman, Loic Gouzer, Sophie Cohen, Lucas ZwirnerAnd Dominique Levywanted artists like Outtara Watts, Wim DelvoyeAnd Lauren Quinand about thirty different Gagosian power actors. Someone also pointed me to a scene almost straight out of white lotusis the second season, like two, uh, Locals walked into the bar dressed almost identically Mia And LucyIf you catch my drift.
Anyway, I’ve never had so much fun asking the simple question “So where do you live?” than on the patio of the Three Kings. Among this class of people, most cannot give a direct answer. I should have timed some of these answers. For example: “Well, I’m in Zürich mainly, but my girlfriend lives Lausanne, so I spend a lot of time there. Although I work in prague and I have an apartment there, and I have a house in Tuscany where I stay during the summer. I have just returned from a long stay in new York, and actually closed on an apartment there.” How’s that for an answer? Still dizzy?
Tip: One of the most helpful conversations I had at the bar was with Kendra Jayne Patrick and his companion of Swiss origin, Ernst Fischer. This guy had an insight I didn’t know I needed. That morning, I had woken up with a nuclear hangover, disproportionate to my alcohol consumption the day before, and disoriented from a feverish sleep in which I was haunted by bizarre dreams. According to Fischer, it was a direct result of my fondue consumption. “Surrealists ate it before bed to inspire weirder dreams,” he confidently explained. And that hangover? Apparently salt dehydrates you, but according to Fischer you shouldn’t drink water while you eat fondue, only before and a little after. “You drink schnapps or hot tea while eating your fondue,” he said. “Otherwise the cheese will stick in your stomach and you won’t be able to digest it.” Words of wisdom!
The actual digs: there is so much appeal around the legendary hotel, I was thrilled that Chloe Sage (whose show at Journey is a can’t miss) invited me to visit the room she had inherited from a friend who left early. Stepping into the bar was no joke, so setting foot in one of the rooms which can cost up to $5,000 a night and requires years of forethought to book was like gaining access to the gems of the crown. So you can imagine my confusion to find that a bed in the most wanted hotel is just two twin beds squashed together, and barely a decorative pillow to speak of. I like to punch holes in the glitz and circumstance of hyper-exclusive spacesSo, here’s a hastily snapped visual aid:
For my friends who might fancy those with an engraved key card, imagine getting a stiff neck after a night’s sleep on it for the price of a few months rent.
The Gossip: Speaking of those keycards, here’s a fun fact from this week. Monday evening, Larry Gagosian organized a private party at the Three Kings, as he is used to. The mega-concessionaire is one of many who has a standout reservation at the 334-year-old hotel. I think he may be a little too comfortable in the hotel, because Fresh paint learned that he had left his key card in the bathroom during the party, and when another partygoer wrote his name on the card, they swiped it for themselves. Whoever took it, if you’re reading this, congratulations on getting perhaps the funniest trophy you can ever have in the art world. Hope you frame it.
Three Kings prison tattoos featuring Niclas Castello (left) and David Mugrabi (right).
Oh, and some personal news: I acquired two new tattoos during my time here at Three Kings. Late one night I came across David Mugrabiwhich I approached with my cock between my legs due to the fact that I broadcast her dirty laundry more than once in my column. Luckily for me, Mugrabi is one of the friendliest billionaires I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, and he only asked for the chance to draw an image of his choosing on me, in reparation for my actions. In penance, I consented. I assumed it would go for something lefty but no I ended up with a heart with an arrow through it on my chest that read “D+A” which I had to rub during my dip in The Rhine the next morning.
The number two tattoo is from Nicholas Castelloyou may know from the viral sensation that was the 24 carat gold cube he fell in central park last winter. He saw my David Wojnarowicz burning house tattoo, and decided that a cube drawn by him would be a great compliment. Who was I to refuse that? Write and let me know which tattoo is more valuable as an art object, because I can’t decide.
To sum it up: If the Three Kings lobby bar is Olympian in trying to get other people to buy your drinks, then give me a call Usain Bolt. Drinks are notoriously ridiculously expensive—€32 a pop—but like my colleague Kate Brown said it when we took our first sips of a martini, “It tastes like a diamond!”
One last thing: in the most recent Fresh paintI asked who you would choose to play the new CEO of Art Basel, Noah Horowitzand its predecessor Marc Spiegler. The winner is Moran Millswho so skilfully suggested Paulo Costanzo for Horowitz, and Michael Chiklis for Spiegler. See you next week.
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