Miami International Art Fair (Set up day)

The 5 AM cab ride from Potomac to Reagan National was pretty hairy considering that the streets of the Soviet Socialist Republic of Montgomery County were pretty icy and snowy, and there were more than one ice tail spins along Bells Mill Drive on the way to Seven Locks and Democracy Blvd and the Beltway.

The Beltway was pretty clear of snow and ice, but I am always shocked to discover how many cars are out there at 5 in the morning. Who are all these drivers and where the fuck are they all going at 5 AM?

My cab driver (I always call the same guy, his names is Bones, and he will get you from A to B every time on time. Once you have a dependable cab driver, one must return to the force every time). Bones is reliable, big and strong, a brilliant storyteller and really resembles that huge guy from the Green Mile.

So we get to DCA on time, in spite of a few spin-offs at the George Washington Parkway, and I'm loving Jet Blue because they don't charge a fee for luggage while most of the other airlines scam you out of $50 per round trip if you check in a bag; and because flight 1795 is leaving on time in spite of the ice and snow. But once we're in the plane, by the time we're de-iced it is is almost 90 minutes past departure time, but I'm cool because I am heading to Miami for the second Miami International Art Fair (MIA) at the Miami Beach Convention Center and it is in the 70s in Florida and according to the weather people, Florida is the only state in the union (including Hawaii) which doesn't have snow somewhere on the ground today. WTF happened to global warming?

When we land (it was a Navy landing by the way, because it was clearly the short runway), the tall, skinny flight attendant dude tells us that we've made up 30 minutes from our late departure, which as usual leads me to think: do they fly "faster" if they leave late?

Then I get a rental car, and as always marvel at all the bullshit car rental taxes in Florida that cost almost as much as the actual rental car cost, but I get a free upgrade to a minivan because they're out of "real" cars...

Then I drive to quickly see my parents before stopping over at Casablanca Bakery in Hialeah for the best pastelitos, papa rellena, croquetas, bacalao, yuca rellena, and Cuban bread in the area (and a full breakfast anytime for $3). They put it all in a nice box and I take it to my parents.

From there I drive to Little Havana, where I had left a bunch of my artwork in store at my cousin's house. I get there, load up the minivan and head to Miami Beach to meet Sheila, the hardworking artist and owner/director of Mayer Fine Art to help her set up in booth 105 of the fair.

At the MB Convention Center there's an army of people assembling booths and putting art shows together. This is the same floor, the same place where the "real" Art Basel Miami Beach takes place, and there's a feeling to being here that is quite unique.

Mayer Fine Art actually has two booths at this fair: one for gallery artists and one focus booth for their big selling European superuberartist Alexey Terenin.

Terenin deserves the focus booth (curated by Aldo Castillo).

Terenin... this Russian-born painter is an exceptional master of the marriage of the palette knife with the brush and with intensely psychological scenarios... and he sells like crazy!

For MIA, Sheila has chosen a huge Terenin painting, almost seven feet tall. She has spent over a thousand dollars getting it stretched, framed, crated and shipped to Miami Beach for the spotlight of a focus booth in this show.

When it arrives, it has been damaged in transit by the shipper, who has clearly ignored the DO NOT LAY FLAT markings on the crate. There are two huge gouge holes on the crate, which in turn have worked their way through the protective wood, board and plastic protection around the linen painting to just barely kiss the back of the painting with a sharp steel tooth of a yellow gear transport and bite the linen to leave a mark, almost invisible, on the canvas, and the tiniest of wounds to the paint itself.

Two of them, as if a gigantic snake had brushed the rear of the painting with needle-like teeth. Two tiny pin-like pricks... almost invisible to the eye, but not to the ethics of a decent art dealer.

Within minutes Aldo Castillo has a conservation restorer on the line. He will come tomorrow morning to assess the damage and repair it on site. Sheila's investment in this yet unsold painting continues.

And so does this report from MIA... tomorrow.