Bash Compactor: Getting Heist

I first met Talia Eisenberg at a dinner party on the rooftop of The Chelsea Hotel. An assortment of models, artists, Wall Streeters and photographers (like the one who brought me) had gathered for one of those debaucherous Dionysian evenings I at times read about though am never, in any way, a part of. Incredibly out of place, I spent the evening smoking cigarettes by my lonesome when the very thin, blond and bubbly Eisenberg came by to chat with me. She started telling me about Heist Gallery, which she had opened that spring, and how amazing it was and basically the same spiel you tend to get from every pretty girl with a dream while you nod and smile and look for more alcohol. Cut to last Wednesday when, during the closing night of the [Quick While Still exhibition], Heist Gallery sold five of its dozen $10,000-plus pieces only an hour in to the evening.

As if my aforementioned misjudgment was not enough, I painstakingly made my way to the exhibit’s closing night party expecting sordid crowds, an unruly line and a battle to try and speak with anyone worth note. Once again, I was completely wrong. For the current exhibition, the gallery transplanted itself from its Essex Street base to a pop-up location on Madison Avenue (“We only have to pay insurance,” Eisenberg gleefully informed me), where an incredibly manageable crowd had gathered for the evening. When I told Eisenberg of our previous meeting, her face lit up and she told me she totally remembered (probably a lie) and I then apologized for doubting her abilities (totally true).  The show featured work from Katherine Bernhardt, Kadar Brock, Mark Gibson, Matt Jones, John Newsom and Wendy White and, according to the release, “the rawness of the space itself is a reflection of the rawness of these artists’ ambitions.” I was unsure about this until I met the curator, Colin Huerter. I am quite certain most people would go along with anything the incredibly, incredibly, incredibly attractive Huerter recommended.

Also present was former Beatrice Inn Monday nighter dj franco. I went over to ask him about The Kenmare, the Paul Sevigny-backed hangout, which I am told is going to be the new Beatrice. He said he has no involvement and was unsure of any plans for him to spin there. The band for the evening, The Bowery Riots, had also apparently just played there but everyone was tight-lipped, likely as the hotspot is not scheduled to open until later in March but hosted everyone, even Mick Jagger, during Fashion Week.

With no “new scene news” to be gained from the evening’s entertainment, I ventured back to Eisenberg and Huerter to discuss what gallerists they most admired or hoped to emulate. They looked puzzled before almost simultaneously agreeing, “Barbara Gladstone.” I told them I had met the famed lady a few years earlier when she attended the Venice biennale with client Matthew Barney. “I want to touch Matthew Barney,” Eisenberg replied. “Can you put that in? Call me, Matthew, so I can get next to you!”