Every art fair has its rituals—and its opportunities for cultural discovery.
For many, a trip to Zona Maco in Mexico City requires a feast at Contramar. During Frieze Seoul, you may find art types strolling through Bongeunsa, the Buddhist temple near the convention center. And at Art Basel in Switzerland? Look to the water. A great many don bathing suits to float down the Rhine, which cuts through this ancient city.
“There’s no rush like diving into the Rhine at first light—Basel waking up behind you, the current pulling you forward, your body alive with motion and clarity,” Ben Strauss-Malcolm, a New York-based vice president at Pace, said. “It’s love in motion: crisp, real, and full of grit and joy.”
Like locals, they stuff their clothes and possessions in waterproof bags (the fish-shaped Wickelfisch brand is popular and costs about CHF 34, or $41) and let the current carry them. The Museum Tinguely is a common starting point; kiosks await downriver, past the Trois Rois hotel, with drinks and aliment.
At left, a Wickelfisch waterproof bag; at right, a crispy beer. Photos: Andrew Russeth.
“Basel was little more than an annual, self-flagellating atonement for my sins until I discovered swimming in the Rhine a number of years ago,” said Los Angeles dealer Chris Sharp, who’s showing witty little Mark A. Rodriguez wall pieces at Liste. “Since then, I actually look forward to my yearly trip, having become a devoted Rhine swimmer.”
It’s not just the dealers who partake. An adviser who understandably asked to remain anonymous recalled “skinny dipping at 3 a.m.” one year. Artists on hand for the week, many working as art handlers, are also regulars.
Relaxing along the Rhine.
For some in the industry, it’s a passing phase, a youthful reverie. One blue-chip art seller told me that it’s been “years and years, unfortunately no time anymore! All so work focused and boring now.”
Time is valuable at Art Basel, especially in its early days. A river swim requires commitment amid competing demands and, for plenty of attendees, jetlag. I’ve been to Basel a half-dozen times, and I only made it into the water this year. (Despite nearly smashing into a buoy and recalling tales of people losing valuables because they improperly sealed their bags, I had a great time.)
One morning, I spotted Amelia Redgrift, Pace’s communications and marketing chief, with a water bag. “I am more of a biannual Rhine swimmer rather than a hardcore regular,” she told me, “though there’s nothing better for achieving a moment of tranquility and the feeling of pure freedom.”
Swimming along the Rhine.
Despite a river swim’s many benefits, not everyone is sold on the practice. A dealer I thought might enjoy it told me, “I’ve never done it, nor do I plan to.” Why? “I feel like there are dead bodies there.” (New Yorkers can understand that concern.)
Gallerist David Nolan, who’s celebrating his 30th year at Art Basel, also chooses not to participate. The Rhine, he said, is “dirty, dangerous, deeply infested with microplastics.” Some cursory online research suggests that he is not wrong.
“I prefer the ocean,” Nolan said. For that, of course, there is Art Basel Miami Beach.