Earlier today, my seminar-related travels brought me to the Metropolitan Pavilion, which was hosting the Affordable Art Fair–a gallery in which artists from all over the U.S. and even international artists have the opportunity to showcase their art and sell it to the interested. I admittedly did not have high hopes for this event, a feeling pre-established by my purchase of a ticket the night before. I had paid roughly $41 for a relatively bare-bones entry ticket; VIP tickets were around twice that if memory serves. This represented my first financial hurdle in regards to the curiously named “Affordable” Art Fair, as I found the comparatively steep price affordable by no means. As a silver lining, guests under 16 were allowed free entry–but what good did that do me? I digress.

As I stepped into the venue itself, I was greeted with bustle. Swaths of people moving from exhibit to exhibit as if on a circuit, chatting up a storm amongst themselves and even with the artists. Immediately, I felt out of place. The employees were polite and I had no real interactions with anyone (save for one of the artists, but I will get to that later), but looking at the price tags of artworks made me realize the gulf between myself, an 18-year-old college student working a minimum wage job, and the artistically inclined who had undoubtedly come from all over to spend thousands of dollars on a new painting for their living room–or something. I think the cheapest painting I found was $600. Slave to souvenirs as I am, though, I didn’t walk home empty-handed: virtually all of the artists gave out free postcards or bookmarks as business cards, and who would I be not to capitalize on such an opportunity?

In any case, the art itself was a mixed bag for my tastes. I believe that modern art receives too much flak from the general population who I notice tend to prefer the classic old Western canon. I won’t lie and say that every piece I saw spoke to me, but there were many that I highly enjoyed. For example, Mercedes Jelinek’s Immersion, a photograph printed on recycled book paper, seemed to me an incredibly interesting way to present photography in a novel light. That being said, it was also $6,000, which overrode any positive feelings I had for the work. I understand that artists need to make a living, but the entire point of an “accessible” gallery should be that art is accessible to everyone, and I don’t see how such a price point can justifiably be called accessible.

As I sauntered through the gallery, I came across works by Chicago artist Richard Glick. We exchanged polite smiles and then he struck up a conversation with me, which made me momentarily freeze. He told me he was the artist behind the paintings I was looking at–something I discerned by the name on his lanyard–and I barely uttered a “That’s nice.” Retrospectively embarrassing for me, but we got to talking and I started warming up. The first thing he said to me after was, “You know, they call this affordable but it really isn’t at all.” I swiftly nodded, and we got along to talking about my school, what I was interested in, et cetera. This interaction was probably the highlight of my visit. I really enjoyed being able to have a conversation with an artist, even if it was just exchanging pleasantries. Instead of being some far-off figure, the artist was just a human standing in front of me. I also liked that he addressed the hypocrisy of calling the Fair “affordable” without my having to even intimate such a thing.

I wish I had more positive things to say about the Affordable Art Fair, but I would be lying. Woefully out of place among the rich art snobs of Manhattan, I decided to move on to better, cheaper things. Namely, a quick detour to the Chelsea Hotel to check out the lobby before I hopped on the SIM1c once again. With Patti Smith on my mind, I set out on a 10 minute walk from the Pavilion to the Hotel; it was probably shorter than that in actuality. But in any case, it served as a nice way to end my trip, although I do regret not getting a coffee or something in the bar. Next time, I’m sure.