Marianne Thamm
There are those who are of the opinion that art is a sacred calling and that the artist, like the young Catholic nun or Buddhist monk, should relinquish the pursuit of material gain to meet the rigours and demands of the vocation.
Alone and poverty-stricken (well, at least some of the time) in the proverbial garret, we believe, they should be driven to create the purest of art – art as effrontery, art for art’s sake. High art, in other words. You can fashion an ashtray to look like a vagina, you can sit in a glass case weaving your hair or you can sprinkle semen on a page, but beware the artist who desires fame and fortune and who supposedly snips the umbilical chord of divine inspiration to worship at the 20th- century altar of commercialism.
Although there is nothing new in mass- producing art for the masses – we all know Andy Warhol did it, as did Roy Lichtenstein, Keith Haring, Jeff Koons and many others – the sin of going mainstream persists.
If we were to tally the vast expanses of column space artist Beezy Bailey has occupied in the local and international print media over the past few years it would amount to millions of rands worth of free advertising. From his collaborations with David Bowie to his manifold maverick artistic excursions over the years, Bailey should, to all intents and purposes, be a wealthy man – and we’re not talking about his much-whispered-about inheritance.
“In terms of economics it was insane,” the eternally optimistic Bailey offers one bright autumn morning, while perched like a pixie atop the roof of his new building in Buiten Street, Cape Town. The building is currently being converted into an art “factory” la Warhol. “All this coverage and yet I was only selling a few paintings a year,” he says. “Now I am exploiting my name, as it were. I am going to use the coverage and the hype. I am becoming a label.”
Over the years there have been those who have sat on the sidelines and not wished Bailey well. He has been viewed by some as a whimsical, gimmicky, flighty, spoilt, rich kid who could afford to experiment, doodle and stir up publicity.
But Bailey is no cunning dandy, no chic city-bowl dabbler. He has consistently and prolifically produced work that has traversed a broad vocabulary and range of techniques and now, instead of waiting for someone to discover him, he has discovered himself. Beezy, a figment of his own imagination. Bailey: the artist as businessman.
“After years of being part of this art world where you depend on manna from heaven or your big lucky break, I am going it alone. I have come to terms with the fact that I am a one-man band and now I am taking it all the way instead of fighting it.”
From his new three-storey factory that will squat like confectionery, a beautiful birthday cake cast in concrete just off Cape Town’s legendary Long Street, you will be able to buy a piece of Bailey for as little as R1 or as much as R60 000 depending on how flush you are or whether you’re carrying dollars or Deutschmarks. Bailey has collaborated with Koos Malgas (he of the Owl House), who has sculpted a variety of hybrid Bailey/Koos Malgas/Helen Martins creatures that will roost on the gables and adorn the facade of the building. He visualises it more as a giant sand castle, architecturally inspired by Gaudi and the mosques of Sudan.
It will house a print and ceramics studio, a retro-furniture
store, an art gallery, a retail outlet, a coffee bar and the existing sushi and karaoke bar. Upstairs will be Bailey’s office, a wild Graceland-meets-Teletubbies work space with a giant cowhide couch, purple carpets with elongated turquoise spots and kudu horns mounted on diamant- encrusted walls.
The venture, he states quite matter-of- factly, will rival the Waterfront and the Winelands as the tourist attraction in Cape Town.
He may be right. A stretch of Long Street – the section wedged between Wale and Orange streets – could well become the Soho of Cape Town that will lure the younger, more discerning tourists who see through the faux, theme-park ethos of a development like the Waterfront. They have already colonised the area, lolling about in coffee shops, reading Lonely Planet guides and hanging over the precarious Victorian balconies of the myriad backpackers’ lodges that line the street.
“I intend to capture a market or reach a public that doesn’t usually buy art because it thinks it can’t afford it. A student from Obs[ervatory] will be able to come and buy a length of fabric for R100, but of course I will still cater for the big collectors. Apart from that, 50% of the people who walk down Long Street nowadays are tourists. They are not the kind of people who find the Waterfront wonderful, in fact they find it depressing.”
With a mind that clicks and whirrs with hundreds of ideas, most of which are turned into something real (even his telephone doodles have been reproduced as fabric) Bailey needs an outlet so that the goods can move and sell on a large scale.
Does he feel he has sold out?
“I don’t, believe it or not, make art for money. Art comes first for me. If I was given the choice that I wasn’t ever allowed to sell another painting as long as I lived but was allowed to make art or say I could have millions and millions of rands, I would always opt for the former. For me there is nothing more important than making art. If I do not make art for a period of time I start to get physically sick.”
From ceramics to silkscreens, painting and sculpting with a chainsaw, Bailey’s days are already more than filled with things to do. Does he really need more to mission about?
“I have this thing about dream-reality, where your dreams don’t have to remain in your head. And you don’t have to wait for other people to do it for you. This venture is my Cape Town anti-apathy project. Everyone here waits for someone else to do things. Well, I’m not doing that anymore.”