And it’s that exciting time of the year again. October. London. Art Fairs. Sad thing is, I can’t make it down South this year. It’s sad to miss out on one thing in particular, which is truly one of the greatest art shows I’ve ever been to. Unpretentious, mellow and charming, studded with artists, who were happy to talk about their work in all honesty – not necessarily with the intend to SELL. While traditional fairs slowly but surely transform into a money investment circuit, intentionally or unintentionally feeding the need of the rich and powerful for their next exclusive plaything, concepts like The Other Art Fair feel like a refreshing, inclusive counterpoint to today’s slightly perverted arts market. Indeed, all artists want to survive, strive for (financial) acknowledgement and some of the big names even make fun of their artworks’ astronomical prices, but if I set a foot into a gallery or artist showroom, I don’t want to be treated differently only cause I don’t have my pocket full of hundred dollar bills. You might call me romantic or narrow-minded. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for great artists, who become commercially successful. Maybe I’m simply into looking for the not yet massively established, under-represented artistic talent out there. Maybe I just see more in an artwork than its value. At least I am given a choice. An easy one. So I beg your pardon Frieze, we had fun times and you’re all shiney and stuff, but I suppose on that level we’re not meant for each other.