ART FAIRS MAY NOT BE NEW but these days they are certainly more: more frequent, more crowded, more lucrative. With Miami and London joining Basel and New York as obligatory circuit stops, with artists decrying the constant pressure from dealers for fresh work, and with dealers bemoaning the drain on quality stock (never mind the toll of constant caravanning on the flagship operations back home), bristling under the big top has become an art-world way of life. Last season, indefatigable Chelsea cheerleader Jerry Saltz professed to sitting out the Miami and Frieze fairs “because these events make me feel existentially adrift.” A bit, in this particular case, like the head Heather boycotting her prom because the whole thing gives her a bad feeling, but, suspicions of disingenuousness aside, one knows what he means.

Maybe artists are simply made of sterner stuff than newspaper critics. I can’t

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