I rawdogged Frieze VIP day

To rawdog is the dream of man. To experience the world without boundaries or barriers. No distraction, no mediation, no temptation. To be aware of everything and nothing. To be at one with oneself, and to be at one with the world far from the nightmare of our contemporary world and its brain rot culture of streaming, bingeing, fidgeting, vaping, recapping, summarising. From Facebook boomers, to terminally online millennials and zoomers who have to be drip-fed Subway Surfers x Family Guy clips simply to stay awake in class, we’re all cooked, the only question is to what degree.

Rawdogging, the meme, is a reaction to this. A Bushido code for the digital ronin that promises another culture, a better culture, one of resilience and discipline. It started (where else) with Americans on flights: fellas (and it was invariably fellas) refusing films, games, books, music, podcasts, snacks, drinks and in-flight entertainment, and in the most extreme cases, sleep – rather, simply existing. “New rawdog PR, 17hr flight. No food, no water, no films. Just safety instructions,” said TikTokker Charlie Sutherland in one video viewed almost 7 million times, “I couldn’t even look at the flight map,” he added. It’s a stunt. But there is something admirable in it.

The art world is not known for its self restraint. The exhibitions, sales, parties and fairs that mark the modern gallerists calendar are no longer confined to a single season. You could, if you wanted, spend an entire calendar year hopping from fair to biennial. Each one presents a constant stimulation of the senses: from the freebies and giveaways, to the social scene, the drinks and the food, not to mention the sheer amount of art – good and bad – on display, no fixation goes unfulfilled. Of them all, the biggest is Frieze: others might be more prestigious, others might make more money, but none capture the imagination quite like the brand, founded in 2003, which now spans three countries and continents. The sun never sets on the Frieze art fair empire.

“Think of it,” my editor said, as “rawdogging Frieze. No socialising, no schmoozing, no eating, no drinking, no reading, and crucially, no engaging with the art.” Sounds fun, I thought. So here I am, in the queue on VIP day, ready and waiting to have the least overwhelming most underwhelming experience of the fair. Already, I’m trying to zone out of the noise of security guards shouting for tickets and assistants greeting and guiding the VVIPs past us. Amidst them, I am a model of calm. I enter the tent and as soon as my ticket is scanned I place my phone in my pocket. I’ve set some guidelines for myself: no entering the booths, no checking my phone, no map reading, no freebies, nothing other than walking and perhaps sitting when I need to.

I enter the airy expanse of the white tent, with its white walls, its wide alleys between the grid pattern of booths and its perfectly flat, perfectly grey floor. It’s like it’s made for mindlessness. I keep my eyes forward and start walking. It isn’t so difficult. I keep pace with the crowd, neither too fast nor too slow. When someone in front of me stops to snap a photo or air kiss an acquaintance I glide past them. All of the art on display is reduced to patches of colour in the corners of my eyes. All of that thought and work and effort and value is nothing to me. I am the water of a clear mountain spring, carrying nothing and stopping for no one.

As I pass one booth (which, I don’t know, I’m not looking) I hear someone call my name, the first time it’s friendly, but as I breeze by, silently, with determination, they call again, a little confused and distinctly disappointed. I almost shed a tear for them – imagine, to be snubbed like this on the morning of the first day, in front of your colleagues – but I have to carry on. I must.

True to my mission, I don’t have a particular plan in mind. Whenever I get to the end of a row or the corner of the tent I simply follow the crowd. It’s extreme NPC behaviour. Soon enough, I’m lost, but with nowhere to be and no one to see, am I truly lost?

Though I am constantly moving, time drags. I must have been here an hour now. I’m not sure if it’s strictly ‘allowed’ within my self imposed rules, but I sneak a look at my watch. 15 minutes. Fuck. For the first time the feeling of dizziness and doubt hits me. How am I going to keep this up? Staying on my feet is my only option.

Another 15 minutes pass, I’m still avoiding the art, but I realise that I’ve passed the same cluster of booths several times now. Surely the gallerists have noticed? What will they think of me? Perhaps the security guards have too? I can’t see any CCTV cameras, but who’s to say they’re not following me. I double back a few times and try to blend in with the crowd. I think sane thoughts. I remind myself that, to anyone watching me, I’m just another anonymous VIP, who are they to question me?

I carry on, as before. Drifting aimlessly and avoiding all distractions. I am free of desire and free of suffering. I recall Zen koans. I’m ready, if I see the Buddha in the booths, to kill him. Am I achieving mindfulness? Questions nag me: What am I doing here? Writing an article. Why? Because I have to, it’s my job. But really, why? Is rawdogging Frieze truly subversive or strange? Is it a bad way of experiencing the fair, or perhaps the best way? Have you accidentally stumbled onto the golden path of undertaking a psychological cleanse to prepare myself for the art you see later? I’ve stumped myself. I shake it off.

I jumped on this story because I wanted a challenge, I wanted to push myself, and I wanted a break. I’m a millennial, the last generation to remember the old world and the first to suffer the new. We like to tell ourselves that we’re the most adjusted to our new reality. It’s not true. My screen time is shocking. At work, I’m plugged into my laptop, at home, into my phone. It’s rare that I spend any time alone with my own thoughts, it only really happens in the fleeting moments before I am overcome by sleep, or in the first drowsy moments after waking.

Time passes. Nobody is experiencing the fair as I am right now. They might be excited, they might be ecstatic, they might be stressed or bored, but will they remember this and what will they learn of themselves? What am I experiencing? Nothing and everything. Probably more and yet a lot less than many of the others here.

At a certain point (when, I’m not sure) I drift towards the exit. I leave the tent and find a bright world waiting for me. I can only recommend what I felt. Buy a ticket to the fair, go and see nothing, feel nothing, desire nothing, rawdog, and become free.